


Puzzle Pieces

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Angst with a Happy Ending, Biting, Body Worship, Come Eating, Come Marking, Come Swallowing, Don't copy to another site, Emotionally Hurt Derek Hale, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Full Shift Derek Hale, Full Shift Werewolves, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Happy Ending, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, Jealous Matthew Daehler, M/M, Marking, Mates, Matthew Daehler is An Asshole, Mildly Jealous Derek Hale, Mildly Jealous Stiles Stilinski, Misunderstandings, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Scent Marking, Scenting, Scott is a Good Friend, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Territorial Derek Hale, True Mates, Warning: Kate Argent, Werewolf Derek Hale, Werewolf Mates, Winter Resort, blowjob, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:40:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 89,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24479617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: “Okay.” Stiles glanced at his phone, wincing at the battery being close to ten percent. It was probably time to call Scott. Turning off the flashlight, mostly to save battery and kind offreaking outover how dark it was—though the half-moon reflecting off the snow helped a bit—he opened his contacts with shaking hands and scrolled through to Scott’s name. Once he hit it, he put the phone to his ear, looking around, and froze.The phone rang in his ear, but his eyes were locked on something big and moving through the trees.Oh no. Oh no, no, no.If that was a fuckingbear, Stiles wasfucked!The line kept ringing and ringing, but Scott didn’t answer. Eventually his voicemail picked up and Stiles very slowly lowered the phone and hung up without looking, eyes still on the dark shape in the trees. He glanced down for only a second to turn on the flashlight function again, then lifted it ever so slowly upwards, and felt his breath freeze in his lungs.It was a wolf.It was a motherfuckingwolf.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Side Erica Reyes/Vernon Boyd, Side Scott McCall/Allison Argent
Comments: 238
Kudos: 3510
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kalika_999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/gifts).



> Thank you very much Kali for the request! I really hope you like it :) 
> 
> Things for people to note, if you please: 1) I do not own a resort, or a hotel, or anything more than the rinky dink apartment I currently reside in. Please forgive me for any inaccuracies. 2) The only experience I have with someone who tore their ACL is when my uncle did it, and the internet is not always a wealth of information as we are led to believe, so please suspend some disbelief. 
> 
> Other than that, enjoy! :)

The alarm was loud and shrill when it went off, the same as every morning at this ungodly hour, forcing him back to consciousness far sooner than he’d like, and back to work much faster than he wished. In some ways, the sound of his alarm would probably feature heavily in his unending torture in the afterlife, because nothing captured his complete and utter loathing of his very existence the way his alarm did. 

Derek Hale peeked open one tired green eye to stare at his phone, still trilling incessantly in a constant demand for him to wake up and get his ass to work. He wondered if he could get away with calling in today, though knew the likelihood of that going over well was slim to none. The disadvantage of being a Werewolf meant he didn’t get sick, and while humans didn’t know that—what with the Supernatural being a secret and all—his family sure as shit did. 

Seeing as he _worked_ for said family, it would be a pretty hard sell, calling in sick. Besides, he should feel grateful that he even _had_ a job, since it wasn’t like he had the people skills to get hired virtually anywhere else. 

To be fair, his parents had kind of groomed both him and his sisters to take over, so in a way, it may have just been their plan all along for him to be stuck working at the family business for the rest of his life. Straight out of university and onward, or whatever. 

He was still staring at his alarm, listening to it echo through his sparsely furnished room, and then turned to bury his face in his pillow. Letting out a loud, frustrated growl into it, he pushed himself up and reached out to shut the alarm off. 

His room went eerily silent, and he sat with his legs thrown over the side of his bed, staring at his bedroom door for a good few seconds before finally getting to his feet. 

Realistically, Derek knew he was only annoyed right now because it was winter break. Winter break, Reading Week, Spring Break and summer were the four _worst_ times of year for him, because it meant people. So many fucking _people_. 

Derek did _not_ like people. In fact, he went out of his way to avoid them as much as possible, a feat difficult to achieve when his mother insisted on putting him at the front desk of their large vacation resort. His sisters teased him mercilessly about how his pretty face made up for his prickly personality, though Derek still didn’t think having _him_ be one of the first points of contact upon arrival was a good idea. To be fair, working the front desk was probably the best job for him anyway, because he couldn’t pull off anything else his family did. 

In the winter, his mother Talia taught children how to ski, and Derek was pretty sure yelling at them wasn’t a good way to teach, so he _definitely_ couldn’t do that. In the summer, she was one of the guides through their many trails, which required patience since people were fucking idiots most of the time, what with wandering off or touching plants they were told not to touch, and Derek could _not_ deal. 

His father Michael had a pilot’s license, and they had a small airfield on the property with a few two to four passenger planes. It was for the more adventurous people who wanted a bird’s eye view of the immediate area, and was available for booking year-around. The place looked magical in the winter, with all the snow and some areas untouched by man during the colder months, and it was gorgeous and lush and green in the summer, giving it an almost ethereal and fantastical appearance. Derek hated flying, but he would admit that the few times he’d gone up with his dad, he’d thoroughly loved it. Still, not something he wanted to do on a regular basis. It was nice going up every now and then, but as a Werewolf, he preferred having his feet on the ground more often than not. His very human father, on the other hand, had no problems being in the air for hours at a time every day. 

His older sister Laura taught snowboarding to teenagers and adults in the winter, and horseback riding in the summer. Or at least helped people get more comfortable and familiar with horses so that they could go out on one of the many tours with them. Both jobs required patience and the ability to keep one’s temper in check, so still well outside Derek’s wheelhouse.

His younger sister Cora did tours. In the winter it was anything from snow-shoeing to snowmobiling to cross-country skiing. In the summer it was dirt bikes and horses and RZR adventures. Basically anything she could do to keep herself moving and having a good time. Derek knew he’d love to do things like that, go out, spend time in the fresh air. But he’d also have to keep track of morons who liked to wander off and get lost in the woods. Honestly, he’d be more likely to leave them out there for a few hours to teach them a lesson for being idiots. 

His uncle Peter was a bit of a sadistic, evil mastermind and considering he was passive-aggressive with virtually everyone and scared people with his mere presence, Talia had been smart by relegating him to the office where he mostly ran the numbers and made sure inventory was kept stocked and whatnot. Best to give him a job away from the public, and Peter seemed to like it well enough, so it worked out. Derek barely ever saw him, which suited him just fine.

His cousin Malia was kind of in the same boat as him. Both of them hated working for the resort, and both of them weren’t the best with people—still better than Peter, but not great. Derek may have hated being stuck at the front desk like he was, but at least he wasn’t in charge of the souvenir shop, like Malia was. If there was one thing worse than people, it was people who actually _shopped_ in souvenir shops. Malia spent more time glaring people out of her store than actually turning a profit. 

But well, that was how this place ran. Family business. Of course they had many, _many_ more people on staff, from cooks to cleaning staff to instructors and the like, but every member of the Hale family worked for the resort. Sometimes Derek hated that they owned the place, but other times, it had its perks. 

For one thing, they owned all the property the resort and ski hills were on, which made full moon nights amazing, and for another, they all lived on that same property. The latter hadn’t originally been planned, but as time passed, it had turned out that way. Derek’s childhood home was a huge house right beside the resort, with his cousin and uncle living in another house on the opposite side. As everyone grew older, there were some cabins interspersed throughout the property that they sometimes rented during the year for people who didn’t want to stay at the resort, and when Laura decided to move out, their mother thought maybe she could just live in one of the cabins. And thus, the tradition was born. Derek moved out next, then Malia, then Cora. 

Derek lived in the one furthest out from everyone else. Not because he didn’t like his family, but because of all the stupid _people_. His home had never been rented back when it was a cabin because it was located so far back into the woods that they’d worried people would get lost trying to get to and from it. It was a good twenty minute walk from the closest ski-lift, almost a half-hour from the resort and small village-like surrounding area with restaurants, shops and cafés, and in a dense and dark back part of the woods. It was always freezing cold, even in the summer. Nothing a Werewolf couldn’t handle, but not ideal for a human. 

He loved his home. It was perfect for him, and he was more than happy to just live out in the middle of nowhere, away from people, and be left alone. 

Of course, that only worked on his days off, since he was now getting ready to go and greet people. During winter break. His life was the worst, honestly. He knew that it was only for three weeks, maximum, but there were always those groups who came early—he’d already had the pleasure of dealing with _them_ —and the ones who stuck around late. He hated when there was a steady influx of people, it drove him crazy. He just wanted to sit and be left alone. 

_Bitching about it isn’t going to change anything,_ he reminded himself as he got dressed. He always jogged to the resort in the morning, it helped wake him up and provided some good exercise. Also helped him control his temper since he never woke up in a good mood. 

He always kept work clothes at both his parents’ place, as well as in the back room at work. It meant he could just jog to one of the two places, shower quickly at either his parents’ place or work, eat breakfast in the kitchen at work, and then start his day. Also helped save on laundry, since his laundry got done either at work by an old family friend who was employed by the resort, or his parents’ place because his mother didn’t like that all her children were gone. Not that he was hurting for money or anything, but still. His cabin’s laundry machine was kind of shit, and he was too lazy to buy a new washer/dryer set when he mostly used it for his underwear. 

Once he had his running pants and long-sleeved shirt on, he grabbed a vest and a hat—not because he needed it, but because it was cold out and humans tended to notice when someone was underdressed—and then pulled his boots on, lacing them up. 

As ready as he was going to be for his day, he shoved his phone and wallet into the pockets of his puffy vest, exited his home, and locked the door behind him. It was a crisp, cold morning, with fresh snow on the ground. He made it only two steps away from his door before his boots were crunching through it. 

Walking to the edge of his personal property, he jumped on the spot for a few seconds, cracked his neck, and then began to jog. He knew the route by heart after almost four years of making this trip, and his ability to see in the dark made it easier for him to navigate during the dark winter months. He heard rustling around him, some forest creatures not in hibernation making their way out of their holes or back into them, depending on their schedules. 

As much as Derek hated waking up in the morning, this was always his favourite time to jog. Whenever he jogged home in the late afternoon, there were always enough people out that he could pick them up with his hearing. It gave him a headache and tended to sour his usually already fairly dark mood. In the early hours of the morning though, there was none of that. Just him and the forest. He loved that about this place. 

For all the things he hated about living here, there were a lot he also loved. 

He kept his pace steady and even the whole way to the resort, knowing his mother had the day off and his dad wasn’t scheduled until later, so he didn’t want to wake them. He just went straight to work, jogging up to the large wooden steps that led up to a deck so he could go in through the back entrance. He still had to cross the lobby either way, but he was less likely to run into people arriving for their reservations at the back entrance. 

Even at six in the morning, people still checked in. Derek didn’t know how they could love skiing or the mountains so much that they’d forego sleep to get to the resort early. 

His breathing came a little ragged as he slowly climbed the back stairs, stretching his arms loosely while ascending. He made it to the back door, sliding it open, and stepped into the back end of the resort. He could hear soft music playing from the overhead speakers, and the various pots and pans clanking, along with conversation, from the kitchens. The restaurant opened at eight, so the chefs generally came in between four and five to make sure they had fresh bread and pastries ready. Whatever didn’t sell in the morning was sent to the café attached to the closest ski-lift. 

Nothing usually went to waste. People loved bread and pastries. 

Walking through the lobby towards the staff room behind the front desk, he checked the time on his phone to see how long he had, ignoring the blonde sitting behind the counter with a feral grin. 

“Morning sunshine,” she called amicably. 

“Fuck you, Erica,” he responded immediately, shoving his phone back into his pocket and pushing through the back door. He could hear her cackling, clearly pleased at his response. 

Erica Reyes had been friends with Laura for most of their lives, and also happened to be one of the Werewolves in the Hale pack. This had secured her a place at the family-owned establishment, and while she didn’t live on the property like the rest of them, she and her boyfriend Vernon Boyd—one of the cooks and Derek’s best friend—owned a cute little place less than an hour up the road.

It meant Derek could never escape her and her constant teasing. It didn’t help when she and Boyd started dating, since she tended to tag along more often than not when they went to hang out. Not that he minded Erica, per se. She was fun, and they always had a good time, but she made it her life’s mission to make him miserable every morning just by being present. 

After all, Derek would _kill_ for the night shift. Less people, less phone calls, less annoying stupidity to deal with. Alas, his mother worried about his anti-social behaviour due to something that had happened years back, and so, he was stuck on the day shift. Thankfully he only had two more days before his next day off on Saturday. He couldn’t wait to hole up in his cabin, alone, _by himself_ , doing nothing. 

He thought about his plans for his time off while he showered in the small bathroom attached to the staff room. The water was tepid at best, but it didn’t bother him since his Werewolf blood made it easier to ignore the cold. Once he was showered and dressed for the day in black slacks and a loose but comfortable blue Henley—thank God his mother allowed casual wear at the desk or he’d quit, family business or not—he headed back out of the room, bypassed Erica who was now playing a game on her phone, and headed for the kitchens. 

The door to the restaurant was locked, but there was a second entrance through another staff only room that led to the kitchens through the laundry area. Derek made his way through that, grunting good morning to the various staff members who still tried to make friendly with him. Most of the older employees had long ago given up, but some of the younger ones—usually the girls—still tried to wish him a bright and cheery good morning. He didn’t want to be _rude_ , because his mother had raised him better than that, so he at least _acknowledged_ them, but he tried to make it clear he didn’t want to talk. 

Sometimes it worked. Usually it didn’t. 

Pushing through another door into the kitchen, he found Boyd and Alex Devoy chatting while working on various items. Alex looked like he was mixing more dough for rolls, and Boyd was in the middle of making croissants. 

“Morning Derek,” Alex said when he approached. “The usual?” 

Derek grunted in response, bypassing Alex to go for the coffee. It was a small, regular pot since the machine in the kitchen was only for the staff. The real coffee was made out front in the restaurant, along with whatever other drinks people wanted. 

Pouring himself a cup, Derek swallowed half of it down in one shot before refilling the cup and putting the pot back. Then he leaned against the counter housing the machine and watched while Alex abandoned his dough to make Derek’s breakfast. 

He wasn’t picky on who made it for him, because all of the chefs were exceptional cooks. Boyd used to do it because they were friends, but as the others got more accustomed to Derek’s prickly personality, they started offering to make his breakfast, too. 

It was easy, he always got the same thing. Egg sandwich with bacon, cheese, and tabasco on a sour-dough bun. Perfect way to start his atrocious morning. Sometimes he wished he could just make it himself at his cabin, but he was lazy, so he tended to go for cereal on his days off. 

Derek sipped at his coffee, keeping an eye on the time while Alex made his breakfast. When he was done, he slid his plate along the work station and Derek nodded a thanks while grabbing it. He stayed where he was while he ate, refilling his coffee again and almost finishing the pot. Once he was done with his meal, he put everything into the industrial dishwasher and headed out of the kitchen with a wave over his shoulder. 

Alex called a farewell to him, but Boyd didn’t. He was smart enough to know Derek would rather not have to use words until absolutely necessary. His usual ‘fuck you’ to Erica didn’t count as real words. 

Walking back through the lobby, he found Erica checking in a tired-looking couple who didn’t seem to appreciate her perkiness. To be fair, working the night shift meant she had extra energy, both from not having just woken up, _and_ boredom since Derek doubted she’d had many people to help. 

Derek’s partner for the day, Jessica Gox, wasn’t going to show up until at least ten, so while he hated working the front desk, at least he would be alone and not have to pretend to listen to her incessant chatter for a good three hours. 

Jessica was another one of the girls with a crush on him, and there were only so many times he could say ‘no’ to someone before he started getting rude. Derek was not interested in a relationship. He didn’t want one, he didn’t need one, and even if his mate were to magically fall from the sky and land literally right on top of him, he would _still_ turn the other way and pretend not to have noticed. He was perfectly happy on his own. He didn’t need a repeat of his childhood, thank you. 

Derek got to work setting up at the station beside Erica, pulling his metal name tag out of the drawer beside his computer and pinning it to the front of his shirt. He hated wearing the damn thing, but at least he didn’t have a uniform. It was the lesser of two evils, so he tolerated it. 

Erica had finished up with the tired couple by then, wishing them a good day and waving enthusiastically before turning to Derek and inching her way slyly over to him. He didn’t even bother looking at her, finishing up with loading his screen and checking the schedule for the day. 

“So,” Erica said, rocking forward on her feet and losing some of her usual annoyingness in her tone, “I was thinking maybe you and I could go to lunch together. Around eleven or so. Laura’s free and agreed to cover you for an hour so Jess doesn’t have to work alone during a busy period.” 

“Why would I want to go to lunch with you?” Derek demanded, continuing to scroll through the schedule. His finger stopped when his eyes caught sight of the reservation checking in at quarter-after eleven. 

Argent. 

“That’s why,” Erica said cautiously from beside him. 

“Lunch at eleven,” he agreed. She nodded, grabbed his shoulder to pull him down a bit so she could kiss his cheek, grinned at the grunt of annoyance that earned her and moved back to her station. She finished up with what she had left to do, re-booted her system, and then waved goodbye to Derek while heading for the kitchens. 

“Exit’s that way,” he reminded her. 

“Just because _you_ don’t want a significant other doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t,” she insisted over her shoulder, sticking her tongue out at him.

He would’ve shouted back for her not to fuck Boyd in the kitchen, but another couple had just walked in and his mother would kill him. 

Sighing internally and wishing for the day to end quickly, he nodded a greeting to the pair and said, “Hi, welcome to Hale of a Hill. Do you have a reservation?” 

Derek hated people. 

* * *

“So where the hell even _is_ this place, fucking Narnia?” Stiles Stilinski demanded, leaning between the two front seats and looking between the driver and his neighbour. “We’ve been driving for _hours_.” 

“It’s been forty-five minutes, tops.” The driver turned to glance at him briefly before facing forward once more. “You’re just impatient because you can’t sit still.”

“No, I’m _impatient_ because we literally just got off a plane, my leg hurts, and if I don’t get some food in my stomach, I’m going to eat someone in this car,” Stiles corrected. 

“You can eat me any time you want,” his neighbour said. 

Stiles made a face at that, which only his two friends in the front saw. Allison Argent turned to give him a sympathetic look, whereas his best friend Scott McCall just winced. To be fair, Scott was currently driving through a winding, snow-covered road, so probably best he keep his eyes on the prize. Stiles didn’t want to end up a mangled mess at the bottom of the mountain. 

Knowing Scott, he’d just sigh and start the whole process of getting them back up there again. Werewolves were resilient and annoying that way. 

Stiles leaned back to sit properly once more on his side of the car, putting a bit of distance between himself and his neighbour. 

His very annoying neighbour. 

His very annoying and _pushy_ neighbour that he was never going to forgive Scott for agreeing to invite along. _He_ was Scott’s best friend, so he should trump everyone else—except maybe Allison, because Scott was nothing if not loyal to his dick. When Scott had been asked if maybe one more person could come, he should’ve asked _questions_ before blindly agreeing, glad they would have an even number. 

Stiles would’ve rather been the odd man out. He was used to being the odd man out, had been for years. Besides, _anything_ was better than being stuck with Matthew Daehler. Which was what he currently was. Stuck with Matt. In the back seat. 

He’d tried to cram into the second car, but predictably, Jackson Whittemore had bitched and moaned about the tight space, having five people in one car, and while Kira Yukimura had agreed to swap with Stiles, Lydia Martin had vetoed that heavily since she would _not_ be stuck in a car alone with three immature boys. Not that Danny Mahealani was immature, but when he and Stiles got into it, he sort of tended to lose a bit of his adult-ness and Stiles was pretty sure Lydia would lose her mind. 

Then again, _Danny_ was the reason they were all in this stupid mess to begin with! Because _Danny_ had been speaking to Jackson over the phone while in his apartment, which he _happened_ to share with Matt, who _happened_ to have a crush on Stiles. So of course, when winter break came up, and Stiles and his six high school friends were ready to head off to their pre-booked vacation, Matt got invited along. 

It would be cheaper splitting the cost between eight of them instead of seven, it would give them an even number, and it wasn’t like it changed the plans in any way since they’d still have the same number of beds and cars. 

Stiles had never thought he could hate Danny until the moment his flight landed and he saw the group waiting for him included Matt. He’d almost turned right back around to get back on the plane, except Scott was walking behind him and had very easily pushed him forward. 

So now, here he was. Stuck in a car, heading to a two week vacation with fucking _Matt_. And, oh _and_ , to top it off, because life was just _so_ unfair, Stiles had made these plans _before_ he’d torn his ACL. So yeah, on top of being stuck with _Matt_ , he also couldn’t fucking snowboard because of a dumb injury. 

While his knee was mostly better and he could walk with minimal pain, his doctor had told him he shouldn’t be skiing or snowboarding when Stiles had asked him about it during his last visit. He still hadn’t fully healed, and it was likely to irritate the ligament if he tried to do anything too extreme. 

So not only was he stuck with Matt, he was stuck going to a ski resort without being able to actually _ski_. Well, snowboard, since he didn’t ski, but not the point! It was depressing. He’d been looking up all the other things to do, but on top of having limited funds, nobody else was interested in what he suggested. Kira had agreed to go out with him for one of the things he’d found, but for the most part everyone else wanted to ski. These conversations had happened pre-Matt, thankfully, or he was sure he’d have gotten stuck going on outings with _him_ , so small miracle. But still, that meant he was going to be stuck doing who the fuck knew what all by himself in the stupid resort. 

Well, if nothing else, at least he’d already told Scott he was going to try and score during this vacation. Stiles’ sex life had been woefully lacking since the start of the semester, and if he wasn’t going to be able to have fun skiing with his friends, he was at least going to have a hot winter fling with some attractive and unattainable individual—man, woman, he wasn’t picky—and then they would both disappear from each other’s lives forever, never to be seen again. 

A real bittersweet kind of romance movie Lydia would cry through. That was what Stiles wanted for this vacation. 

Matt wasn’t going to stop him from achieving that goal, he’d just have to find a way to get rid of him. Stiles had been a bit distressed to notice Matt hadn’t brought his own skis or snowboard, and considering he was injured and stuck at the resort, he was wondering if maybe Matt was planning on using that as an excuse to stay behind with him even though the resort rented them. 

Stiles would fucking hitchhike home if he had to, he was _not_ spending his days with that weirdo, no _thank you_! 

Sighing explosively, Stiles let his head thunk back against the headrest, and turned to look out the window. The view truly was spectacular, and the higher up they went, the more beautiful he was sure it would be. Nature was magnificent, he was looking forward to taking walks through the paths once they got to the resort. 

Considering the time, it’d be a short walk, since they’d be arriving around three and would likely unpack and look around a bit. They also had to stop at the store to buy some food, since their suite had a small kitchenette complete with microwave, fridge and stovetop. No oven, though, which was a shame. Stiles would’ve liked to bake some cookies or something, but he supposed buying cookies would work just as well. 

“You can stretch your leg out, if you need to. I don’t mind.” 

Stiles made a face at the window, and replied without looking at Matt. No point in encouraging him. “Thanks, I’m fine.” 

“We’re almost there,” Scott agreed. 

“Are you sure? It might hurt more later if you don’t stretch it out.” Stiles felt a hand on his knee and instantly turned to slap it away rather violently. He hadn’t meant to be _quite_ so aggressive, but any kind of pressure made pain lance through his entire leg, and he’d been worried Matt would accidentally hurt him.

Also, why was he touching him? No touching of the Stiles. 

“Sorry,” he muttered half-heatedly. Matt didn’t seem offended, offering his own apology, and they both went silent again. When Stiles glanced into the side mirror, he could see Allison making a face at Scott. He was glad she was on his side about the whole thing. 

Stiles didn’t even know _why_ Matt liked him, it wasn’t like they knew each other very well. Stiles and Danny had always been good friends, likely due to their shared intellect and love of lacrosse. While Jackson would always be Danny’s best friend, just as Scott was Stiles’, Stiles liked to think that he was a close contender for second place with Danny. Danny himself was honestly tied between him and Allison. 

Stiles fucking _loved_ Allison, she was like another part of him, like they’d been separated at birth. It had been very strange to discover that when she’d moved to town in ninth grade and started dating Scott in tenth. 

Overall, everyone on this trip knew each other from high school. He and Scott had been friends since diapers, and had then become friends with Danny and Jackson in middle school, who at the time came as a set with Lydia until they broke up in eleventh grade and Jackson came out as bi-sexual. 

Allison had moved to town in ninth grade and become close with Lydia, which of course meant she got sucked into the group and became friends with Stiles, and eventually started dating Scott. Kira moved to town in eleventh grade, and had immediately been dragged into their group by Allison, because she remembered being the new girl, and it sucked. 

The seven of them were like a unit. A set, almost. They’d done everything together during high school, and even when university had come up, while they knew they wouldn’t all end up at the same one, they’d at least _tried_ to stick together. 

Allison, Scott and Stiles had headed off to Brown together, while Kira and Lydia had ended up at Harvard, and Jackson and Danny had gone to Yale. All very good, respectable schools. They kept in touch all the time, Skyped each other most weekends, and always made plans to hang out during their various breaks. 

That was how Stiles had met Matt. Danny and Matt had been roommates in the dorms in their first year, and were actually quite good friends. Stiles felt like that was mostly because Matt, like himself, Danny and Allison, knew about the Supernatural. It wasn’t exactly something the world at large was aware of, but Scott getting bitten by a rogue Alpha in seventh grade two weeks into first term had kind of opened up a new world for all of them. 

As time passed, more things started coming to light. That same year, Jackson got bitten by a feral Alpha being chased by a family of Hunters—that ended up being Allison’s, but they didn’t know that until two years later—and had turned into a Kanima. Some kind of lizard-wolf hybrid that Stiles had spent _many_ sleepless nights researching while Lydia took care of a feverish and delusional Jackson while the bite settled in. 

Honestly, they were all fairly certain Jackson was going to die, so it was a relief when the fever passed and he just turned into a lizard-person. Stiles still teased him about being part-alien. It was always worth the punch he got in retaliation. 

The year after, Lydia ended up drinking some kind of spiked drink at a party, kind of lost her mind, and went missing for three days. She emerged from the woods naked and filthy, and was suddenly a Banshee. She didn’t talk about it with the rest of them, and while Stiles was curious as fuck, he acknowledged that something bad had happened to her and she didn’t want to relive it. 

Danny and Stiles had started side-eying each other by then, wondering when they would be the next to turn into something not-quite-human. 

Thankfully, that never happened. When Allison moved to town, her parents knew what Scott and Jackson were basically on sight, and it was tense for a while but things smoothed out. It was clear the Argents were honourable people and only hunted those that wished to cause harm to others. Jackson and Scott were just two unfortunate teenagers who’d gotten thrown into something beyond their control, so they were mostly left alone. Given her family, Allison also knew about the Supernatural, so everything was fine. 

When Kira joined the group, Jackson sniffed her out as not-human and exposed her as a Kitsune. She’d been flustered at first, trying to deny it, but before long, it became clear that most of the table was _something_ or another—barring Stiles and Danny, the researching human and the hacker human—and everyone calmed down and things were good. 

And things _were_ good. So good. Just the seven of them against the world. But Danny’s first year roommate Matt had somehow let slip something that made Danny realize he knew Supernatural beings existed, and so they bonded. Became good friends. Stiles visited Danny and Jackson his first Reading Week, and because Jackson had been dating someone at the time, Stiles ended up bunking with Danny and Matt. 

And thus began the infatuation. Or obsession, it was hard to tell. Stiles had made the mistake of completely misreading the situation so that when Matt had asked for his number at the end of his visit, he’d figured he wanted to just chat and be friends. 

The request for phone sex he got the day after he got home was his first clue. The dick pic he got four days later was the second. Apparently Matt was _really_ into him, and because he and Danny were friends, Stiles tried to be nice about it, let him down easy, explain he wasn’t interested. 

He kept hoping they’d stop being friends. After all, Danny was a cool guy and Matt was a little weird—and gross, and disrespectful, and _squirrely_ —but no dice. Danny really liked Matt, and while he was fully on Stiles’ side about him not liking him, he still got guilted into things sometimes. 

Like when Stiles had invited Danny and Jackson to visit, and fucking _Matt_ had shown up with them. Or when they’d gone home for New Year’s in second year and Danny had brought _Matt_ home with him. And now this, where Matt would be spending the winter break alone because he and his family had a bad relationship and so _Matt_ was here. 

Really, Stiles was tired of Matt showing up. And he didn’t want any more fucking dick pics. Stiles had his own dick, if he wanted a dick pic, he could shove his phone into his own damn pants. 

Just sitting in the car with him was making Stiles begin to fume again. This whole vacation was supposed to be _fun_. All of their parents were working during the holidays, and they’d all agreed to allow them this one time where they could skip out on spending time together. And who was Stiles stuck with? 

Fucking Matt. Stupid Matt. 

Stupid Danny, being weak to puppy-dog eyes. Stiles would know! He’d worked that magic on Danny himself! 

Allison let out a soft, delighted little, “Oh!” a moment later, Stiles still glowering out his window with his cheek resting against his fist. He obediently faced forward, looking through the windshield in the gap between the side of the car and Allison’s headrest. 

Straightening, he shifted to lean between the two front seats again, ignoring Matt entirely, and couldn’t help but smile a little. 

They were driving slowly through a small village, stores lining either side of the street and all the awnings covered in a light dusting of snow. It kind of looked like one of those little gingerbread villages people made for the holidays. Some places had lights and decorations up, but it was really the snowy terrain and the mountain up ahead that made the place so gorgeous. 

“Wow,” Stiles agreed. “This place is nice.” 

“Right?” Scott puffed his chest out, pleased with himself. He was the one who’d found it, so it made sense he was proud. “The resort is amazing, too. They have an outdoor pool that they heat during the winter so you can go swimming _and_ have a snowball fight at the same time. It’s why I told everyone to bring swimwear.” 

“Huh,” Stiles said, because that actually sounded kind of fun. He felt like his knee should hold up all right in water. 

“How much further?” Matt asked, having leaned forward. His hand had shifted to slide along the small of Stiles’ back when he did so, and Stiles turned to him sharply. 

“Really dude?” 

“It’s just for balance,” Matt insisted with a small smile. 

“Use the chairback,” Stiles snapped, moving back to his own spot and motioning Allison and Scott’s seats. “I’ll get a better look later.” 

Matt just smirked at him, not seeming upset at all. He was literally the epitome of rich white boy. He and daddy might have a bad relationship, but he was still his son. Matt got money tossed at him by the boatload, and people with money always got what they wanted. 

Stiles wasn’t for sale, and Matt wasn’t his type. He was going to _kill_ Danny for ruining this holiday! 

Slouching in his seat and glaring at the back of Matt’s head, Stiles waited while the car crunched along the ice and salt on the road, Scott driving slowly. He’d have assumed he was doing it to punish him, but the signage showed it was an eighteen miles per hour zone. Stiles figured because so many people were walking around, the place wasn’t really well-suited for cars. Everything looked to be close enough to the resort that most cars were probably just people coming and going, and nothing else. 

That would be good, at least. Stiles could wander around, check some things out, eat at the bakery they’d just passed that looked delicious... 

Seeing as he was going to be stuck _not_ snowboarding. Really though, maybe he’d just try and budget so he could go and do any number of the activities the resort boasted. Otherwise what was the point? He just didn’t want to spend _too_ much money. Wasn’t like he and his dad were rolling in cash. Sure, they were comfortable, but they weren’t by any means _rich_. 

Unlike most of the people here. He and Scott were the only two with lower middle-class lifestyles. At least they were above the poverty line, and could afford vacations every now and then, but it wasn’t like Stiles was interested in spending too much money. That was his dad’s retirement fund. 

“Oh, this looks so nice,” Allison said from the front, sounding excited. 

Stiles glanced through the gap between the side of the car and her seat once more. He couldn’t see much, but they were pulling up to an entrance, so he’d be out of the car and exploring soon enough. There were a few parking spots beside the entrance that boasted a maximum parking time limit, suggesting it was for people checking in and out. 

Scott parked the car and the second he shifted, Stiles was out the door, groaning and stretching out his bad leg. First the plane, now the car? This was _not_ helping his still healing injury. Tearing his ACL had hurt like a motherfucker, and he wasn’t looking forward to it taking an eternity to heal. 

Jackson eased to a stop in the spot beside them, Stiles glaring at Danny through the back window. The guy at least had the decency to look a bit sheepish, climbing out of the car and looking around with interest. 

“Damn, McCall. You did good, for once,” Jackson said, flipping his keys in his hand and coming around the car. 

Stiles realized he hadn’t actually turned to look at the resort, and had to admit, it looked fucking amazing. The entire exterior was designed to look like a huge, log cabin, with pillars made to resemble tree barks and inlaid lights set to look like natural sunshine. The doors leading into the resort were automatic glass doors though, and the inside looked like a five-star hotel, with marble floors, a lavish seating area on the side Stiles could see, and presumably other fun things that he couldn’t. 

“Nice,” he agreed, moving to pat Scott on the shoulder. “Well done.” 

Scott beamed, clearly pleased everyone was so happy with the place. Lydia seemed to be the only one unaffected, but Stiles was sure it was because she’d looked the place up before agreeing to go. Only the best for Lydia Martin, after all. 

“‘Hale of a Hill,’” Stiles read, squinting at the wooden sign post imbedded in the snow by the beginning of the loop leading to the entrance. Well, it was probably imbedded in the dirt, but the snow was covering that. “Didn’t want to just use the word ‘hell’?” 

“The family that owns it is named Hale,” Scott explained. “Apparently they own the whole area, mountain, village and all. Family business that’s been _in_ the family for generations.” 

“Cool,” Stiles said, he and Scott starting towards the doors. The group fell in around them, all looking around. Allison took her spot at Scott’s other side, linking their hands together and Danny came to Stiles’ free side, thankfully saving him from Matt. 

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “He just—would’ve been left alone.” 

Stiles sighed explosively, and resisted the urge to bite back that now Stiles himself _wouldn’t_ be left alone, but he didn’t want Danny to feel bad so he just slapped him lightly in the chest with the back of his hand and shifted a bit so they could all fit through the door. 

The inside was _huge_ and gorgeous, fuck! Stiles loved it already, it was so nice! And there was even a small hole-in-the-wall café to the left. No official seating for it, because it was literally just like a bar with enough space in the back to make drinks, but that was amazing. Stiles hoped they were open late, he loved hot chocolate. No pastries or food though, but presumably that was because most people bought their own food. All the rooms had fridges, after all, only the bigger suites had kitchenettes. 

Turning to look at Scott while he headed for the front, Stiles followed after him and inhaled sharply. 

“Good. Fucking. _Lord_ ,” Stiles breathed under his breath. 

“I am taken,” Danny said from beside him, probably a reminder to himself. “I am a taken man. I have a loving boyfriend, and am very taken.” 

“I sure as shit am _not_. Damn,” Stiles grinned at Danny, who was still staring at the object of both their affection right then. 

There was _the_ hottest guy Stiles had _ever_ seen standing behind the front desk. He was leaning back slightly, as if he had a backless stool right behind him, with his arms crossed over a broad chest sporting a green Henley. His black hair was dishevelled, but in a kind of deliberate, wind-blown sort of way, and he had a neatly trimmed beard Stiles wanted to rub his face all over and the most piercing green eyes he’d _ever_ seen. He thought that might just be the Henley adding to the pop of his eyes, but he did _not_ care. 

Wow. Just _wow_. His vacation suddenly got a lot brighter! 

He practically shouldered past Scott to reach the counter first, the guy turning to look his way, but not making any move to uncross his arms or even smile. Stiles didn’t let that deter him, beaming at him confidently and leaning forward against the counter. 

“Hi. Come here often?” 

He heard more than _saw_ Scott’s full-body sigh, but didn’t worry about it. Stiles wasn’t an idiot, this guy was _way_ out of his league, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to at _least_ flirt a little bit. Just in case! One never knew. 

The narrowed eyes and unimpressed expression made it fairly clear that, nope. Not gonna happen. Oh well, it was a fun two second fantasy while it lasted. 

Stiles just moved aside so that Scott could take his place, the hot dude shifting his attention to him. He saw Scott tense out of the corner of his eye and frowned, turning to look at him. He was staring right at the guy, who seemed to have gone a little tense himself. 

Oh. 

“Seriously?” Stiles hissed. “Can I not catch a break?” 

Hot guy—his name-tag read ‘Derek’—turned to him sharply. Stiles rolled his eyes and waved one hand dismissively.

“Relax, we are well versed in the keeping of secrets. Besides,” he motioned between Scott and Derek, “mutual destruction here. Guess you guys don’t get many wolves up this way, huh?” 

The Derek guy glared at him hard enough that Stiles wondered if he was trying to set him on fire. He just stared right back, raising his eyebrows. Whatever, wasn’t like they were there to _expose_ him. So he was a Werewolf, big deal. So was Scott. And if the guy was a Werewolf, then he should’ve also noticed that half their group wasn’t exactly human. Werewolf, Kanima, Kitsune, Banshee. 

Wow, now that he thought about it, their group was split right down the middle between the humans and the Supernaturals. 

“Reservation under McCall,” Scott said, almost hesitantly. Like he wasn’t sure they were welcome. 

Derek shifted his glare back to him then, and for a moment he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, beginning to type on the computer in front of him. Allison was leaning into Scott on his other side, glancing nervously at Stiles. He just shrugged in response. 

Seriously, they couldn’t be the _first_ Werewolves to stumble across this place, right? It probably just didn’t happen often, or maybe other wolves hadn’t ever actually crossed paths with any of the wolfy staff at the resort. After all, it was entirely possible for Stiles and Allison to have come in and gotten their room keys, and this Derek guy wouldn’t have known about the Supernaturals checking into the resort. 

“Two bedroom, two bathroom suite with the kitchenette?” Derek confirmed, still typing, eyes scanning the reservation up on the screen. 

“That’s right,” Scott confirmed. 

“How many keys?” 

“Eight.” 

Derek grunted and opened a drawer, pulling out a bunch of keycards that all had the ‘Hale of a Hill’ logo emblazoned on them. Stiles watched him as he slowly began to swipe each card on a reader, when the words he’d said sank in and Stiles jolted, turning to Scott. 

“Wait, two bedrooms?” he hissed. “That means four queens.” 

“Yeah,” Scott confirmed, frowning at him in confusion. “It was what we agreed to.” 

“Dude.” Stiles smacked him hard. “ _Matt_!” 

Scott frowned, not understanding at first, and then his face melted into one of horror. 

Their seven-man group always got two rooms with four queens, because that was the norm since forever. Scott and Allison always shared. Kira and Lydia always shared. Jackson and Danny always shared. Stiles got his own bed because he was a kicker and a flailer. He moved a lot when he slept. 

But now, with Matt, it meant he _also_ needed a bed. And since Stiles was the one who was usually _alone_... 

“I am _not_ sleeping in the same bed as him,” Stiles hissed lowly, ignoring the glance he got from Derek, likely catching his tone and the chemo-signals wafting off him. Fucking Werewolves. “Scott, I _cannot_ share a bed with that guy. He’s gonna be fucking inappropriate!” 

“He won’t,” Scott promised. 

“Yes he will!” Stiles turned back to Derek. “Hey man, sorry, is there—do you have any three bedroom suites?” 

“Those are going to be more expensive,” Scott insisted, but Stiles just motioned for him to shut his mouth, staring at Derek and waiting expectantly. 

“Place is fully booked,” Derek said, still swiping cards. 

“Are you sure? Can you check?” 

Derek glanced up at him with an unimpressed look. “It’s the winter holidays. I don’t have to _check_. We’re fully booked. We always are.” He slapped eight keycards on the counter, holding his hand out to exchange it for Scott’s credit card and ID. He asked for a second set, since the suite had two rooms and they always needed two cards on file for damages. Allison handed her items over since Stiles was too busy fuming. 

“Stiles, I’m sorry,” Scott insisted quietly while Derek typed away on his computer, completely ignoring them. “It’s not like I _invited_ him.” 

“You told Danny he could come,” Stiles hissed. 

“He didn’t _tell_ me it was Matt!” 

“You should’ve _guessed_ it was Matt!” Stiles snapped back, still trying to keep his voice down. 

Didn’t seem to work in his favour, because said individual wandered over from the rest of the group, crowding Stiles into the counter. Stiles grit his teeth and noticed Derek’s eyes glance up, fingers pausing in their typing. He stared for entirely too long, but he said nothing and eventually resumed what he was doing. 

“Everything okay over here?” Matt asked, _much_ too close to Stiles’ ear. 

“It’s fine.” Stiles rolled his shoulders, windmilling one arm slightly to get him to back off. He snatched one of the keys off the pile sitting on the counter and turned away. “I’ll help Lydia’s group get their bags to the room.” 

“We don’t even know what number it is yet,” Scott called after him, but Derek responded immediately after. 

“Four-oh-nine.” 

“Thanks,” Stiles muttered, knowing Derek, as a Werewolf, would hear him. 

Allison made a big show of asking Matt a question and confirming he could help with the bags in their car and really, bless her for that. Stiles would’ve kissed her, if Scott wouldn’t kill him for it. 

“Let’s go,” Stiles said to the other group, heading back out to the cars. 

Lydia caught up to him quickly, walking along beside him with her hair still in perfect curls despite the tuque she was wearing. She was nothing if not always perfectly put together. 

“You can share with Jackson,” she said, looping one arm through his and walking along beside him. “Danny said he’d take the spot with Matt. He’s the one who invited him, despite knowing he’d be hitting on you and making you uncomfortable the whole trip. He wants to take responsibility for it.” 

Stiles turned to her, frowning, but then realized that Jackson would’ve heard the conversation happening at the counter, and as soon as Matt had walked away, he’d probably said Stiles would whine the entire trip because of the sleeping arrangements. 

Honestly, he wasn’t wrong. That, or Stiles would just sleep in one of the damn cars. 

“Thanks,” he said, the two of them walking side by side to the rentals. 

The one he and the first group had driven up in was locked, since Scott still had the keys, but Jackson unlocked the second car when he approached and they all started unloading the items inside. They talked about driving back to the village to get some groceries, but considering the speed limit and its proximity to the resort, it was probably best to just walk it. 

“Where do the cars go?” Jackson asked, slamming the trunk while carrying his duffel over one shoulder and skis and boots in his other hand. Stiles was currently carrying two of Lydia’s bags, because when she travelled, she _travelled_. With basically her entire closet. 

“I didn’t stick around for that conversation,” Stiles admitted. 

“I’ll move the car, meet you up there.” Danny traded his skis for the car keys and headed back inside with his duffel over his shoulder. 

Stiles and the others followed a bit more slowly, since they had a lot of things to carry. The place had a bellhop, but that seemed excessive and Jackson was cheap and didn’t want to tip. Lydia was basically using Stiles as a bellhop anyway, so it worked out. 

The four of them headed for the elevator together, Stiles stepping aside to allow people to exit when the doors opened, and then made his way in first. He hit the fourth floor, seeing Scott and Allison heading for the exit, presumably with Danny and Matt, evidently done with the check-in process. 

When the doors opened again and they made it to their room, Stiles had to swipe the card three times before the door finally clicked open, kicking at it to walk in. It was actually a lot nicer—and bigger—than he was expecting considering the price. He figured it was because it was split in eight, and normally people didn’t fill a room to capacity when they went on a trip. 

But they were just students—some wealthier than others, but still—so if they had a way to fit eight people into two rooms, that was what they were going to do. At least they had two bathrooms.

Kira let out a hum of appreciation while following behind him, Stiles walking down a short corridor. There was a large walk-in closet-type of area right inside the door for skis, snowboards and boots, as well as an _actual_ closet right across from it for coats and scarves. 

The corridor ended with the small kitchenette to the left, and the two bedrooms on the right. Both bedrooms had en suites, attached at opposite ends, and Stiles realized the reason the layout was like this was so that both rooms had a spectacular view of the mountains. 

“Oh wow,” he said, moving into one of the rooms with Lydia’s things and standing at one of the large windows. He could see people skiing down the slopes from here, and felt another pang of annoyance at his injured knee. 

Couldn’t have torn his ACL in September, _oh no_! Had to be end of November, so that it had _just_ enough time to heal that walking wouldn’t hurt, but not enough that he could actually snowboard. 

He was so, so jealous. 

“We’ll take this room,” Lydia said from behind him, Stiles turning to her. “Girls and Scott in this room,” she said, motioning for him to put her bags down on the table in front of the wall-mounted television. “You and the other Neanderthals can have the other room.” 

Stiles had known he couldn’t escape Matt _entirely_ , but he was still annoyed he’d be sharing a room with him. At least he wouldn’t be sharing a _bed_ , so that was a win. 

Setting Lydia’s bags down, he went into the other room with his hands in his pockets, Jackson already unpacking his things into the closet and dresser, because heaven forbid he should live out of a suitcase. 

Stiles went to stand in front of their own window instead, staring out at the whiteness that stretched as far as the eye could see, all the way up the mountain, the only other colour being the green of the few trees that survived winter. He imagined it must be really nice to live up here. Quiet, peaceful. 

Probably not _right_ here, since the resort seemed to be a hub of activity, as well as the village and all the people driving up to ski in general from the neighbouring towns, but still. Overall, it was probably really nice. 

When he heard the door open, Stiles assumed the others had all arrived, but Danny was the only one to walk into the room with his duffel, as if he’d parked and headed up before the other three. Stiles figured it was so they could talk, considering he headed right for him after dropping his bag on one of the beds. 

“Hey,” he said moving up beside him and nudging him slightly. “Sorry about Matt. I told him to stop being an asshole, but you know how he is.” 

Stiles nudged Danny right back, hands still in his pockets. “It’s not your fault. He’s your friend, you were trying to be nice. But uh, heads up next time?” 

“I figured you would find a reason to bail if I told you,” Danny said, giving him a knowing look. His friends knew him too well. “We’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you. We’re just here to have some fun.” 

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, still looking out the window. His thoughts went to the attractive guy behind the counter. Derek, or whatever. “I could think of a _lot_ of fun to have with that guy downstairs.” 

Danny let out a slow exhale, puffing his cheeks out and giving his head one small shake. “I’m a taken man,” he repeated. 

“Sucks for you.” Stiles slapped him in the arm and grinned, turning back to the door when he heard it open again, heralding the arrival of everyone else. “Guess we should get set up and hunt down some groceries before all the stores close.” 

Danny hummed his agreement. “And booze.”

Stiles grinned. “And booze,” he confirmed. Jackson scowled at them for their comment, and Stiles shrugged unrepentantly. 

Wasn’t his fault Werewolves couldn’t get drunk. 

* * *

Derek resolutely ignored his phone as it continued to go off _incessantly_ in his bedroom. He’d plugged it in to charge the moment he’d gotten back to the cabin, and promptly set it to ‘Do not Disturb’ so that he could ignore anyone trying to speak to him tonight. 

He’d started a new book during his lunch break, because Cora was _late_ and he’d been _bored_ , and it was actually really interesting. And he’d had a bad day, so he wasn’t interested in spending time listening to Cora whine about whatever she talked about, and Laura asking him thirty times an hour if he was doing okay.

Because as of this past Thursday, Kate Argent was back in town, and everyone knew if she was in town, Derek was going to hide away in his home and only come out for work and _nothing else_. 

Kate was by far the most horrible person Derek had ever met in his life. He’d first met her back when he was a teenager, maybe sixteen or seventeen. He hadn’t been working full time for the resort back then, but he’d been around every now and then doing some mundane jobs. Helping as bellhop, clearing tables in the restaurant, helping wash dishes in the kitchen. Just things he could do with minimal impact on his schooling. 

Kate Argent came to the resort four times a year. Her family was rich, so she could afford it, and the moment he’d met her, he’d honestly been smitten. Kate said all the right things, pushed all the right buttons, and had always been _extremely_ nice to him. Honestly, Derek had really liked the attention back then, and had been infatuated with the idea of her. 

Every time she visited, she spent more and more time with him, pushing the boundaries a little bit further. Never crossing them, but _pushing_ them. Derek honestly thought she was in love with him. And he himself thought maybe he was in love with her. Maybe this woman, despite being much older than him, was his mate. 

It wouldn’t be _impossible_. After all, Laura’s mate was a guest once, and they now lived together in her cabin on the property. While it was unclear if they were _mates_ , since it was rarer for bitten wolves, Erica and Boyd had found one another in high school, and while they’d danced around each other for a long time, he felt like both of them had always known their getting together was inevitable. 

His mother had a human mate, since his dad wasn’t a Werewolf. And she’d met him _young_ , too. Like Erica and Boyd, they’d also met in high school. 

By the time Derek was having thoughts about mates, he was eighteen. Already two years older than his mother was. So it wasn’t _impossible_ for Kate to be his mate, and he honestly _really_ liked her. 

He’d even gone so far as to sit down with his mother to talk about his feelings for her. For obvious reasons, his mother was concerned. Derek was eighteen, and Kate was almost forty. While people said age was just a number, Derek was still fairly young, and this woman had been coming around and flirting with him since he was a minor, putting thoughts in his head, making him think things that maybe weren’t true. 

Derek had gotten mad at her—he was a teenager, and love was still a new thing for him. He’d insisted she didn’t understand, that she just didn’t want him to be happy, and had promptly left the house. He’d intended to go find Kate, tell her he loved her, wanted to _be_ with her, and had even made it all the way to her room before hesitating, hand raised to knock. 

That hesitance was the only reason he found out the truth. 

Kate Argent was a Hunter, and she knew what the Hales were. She didn’t want to hurt them, not exactly, but she wanted to destroy what the family had fought so hard to build over generations. She was using Derek as a way to get an in with the family, and he was, “such a naive, stupid little boy” that it was _easy_. 

Derek had gone home and never spoken about it again. His family knew something had happened, but he hadn’t admitted it to anyone. Not the full story. Laura knew most of it, enough that she understood why Derek had stopped being as open as he used to be, why he didn’t want to meet new people, and _certainly_ didn’t want any romantic relationships, but not everything. 

And the older he got, the more attractive he became, if Kate’s words every time she saw him were anything to go by. He knew she must’ve figured out he’d overheard her at one point. She wasn’t stupid, and had only asked him once why he didn’t answer her calls anymore. He’d changed his number the next summer, not wanting her to have it, but it didn’t stop her from finding him whenever she visited. 

He was easy to spot, after all. He was always at the front. He knew his mother would let him switch out with her present, knew that she’d figure a new schedule out in a second if he asked her to, but he didn’t. He never did. His mother had tried to warn him not everyone was as they seemed, and he’d been a dick to her about it. In a way, he saw this as a punishment, seeing Kate four times a year. 

It wasn’t like she could _do_ anything, anyway. And besides, usually when she came up, she was busy doing other things, skiing or whatever. She only stopped to poke at Derek a few times, jabbing the hurt in further. Rubbing salt in the wound, so to speak. 

She was the reason Derek didn’t believe in love anymore. All he associated love with now was something dark and twisted. 

He hated her. He wished she’d stop coming up and torturing him with her mere presence. 

Sighing explosively, Derek dropped his book onto his lap and turned to look towards his bedroom. His phone was _still_ going off. Because his sisters _knew_ he had it on DND and that if they called twice in a row, it forced it to ring in case of an emergency. They were probably sitting there just hitting redial over and over again. 

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, closing his book and tossing it onto his coffee table. He got to his feet, striding through the cabin to his room, and wrenched his charger free, picking up his phone and answering it with a snarl. “What?”

 _“Finally,”_ Laura said, sounding annoyed. _“Stop being antisocial, jerkwad. Log onto Steam, we’re playing **Jackbox Games** with the group.”_

“No thanks.” 

_“Derek,”_ Laura warned, using her older sister tone, _“Don’t be an antisocial jerkwad and come play Trivia Murder Party with us. Even Isaac is playing, and you know how hard it is to get **him** to play.”_

Derek rubbed at his forehead in annoyance, hating his sister sometimes. He didn’t _want_ to play trivia games right now. He wanted to read his book, eat dinner, maybe shower, and then go to bed. He had an early morning again tomorrow, and on top of that, he’d probably have to deal with Kate first thing just as he had his past two work days since her arrival. She hadn’t come around after check-in on Thursday, but he knew she’d be passing by tomorrow morning to go out skiing again, and she would _definitely_ check to see if he was there like she did every fucking day. Wasn’t exactly like he could just duck behind the counter. 

_“Derek,”_ Laura said again, voice softer. _“It’s just for a little bit of fun. We won’t talk about it. You need to be distracted, and as much as I know you like reading, books won’t hold your entire attention.”_

She wasn’t wrong. Derek’s mind had already drifted to Kate numerous times since he’d arrived home. He kept forcing his attention back to the book he was reading, but it wandered away again every now and then. Kate had really fucked him up. 

It had been ten years since he’d first met her, and he was _still_ affected by her. He supposed thinking he’d found his true love for two years kind of fucked with a person. God, he’d been such an idiot kid, looking back, he honestly didn’t know what he’d been thinking. 

“Give me five minutes so I can make dinner.” 

_“Sure. We’ll play a round and see you in a bit.”_

He grunted, then hung up, staring down at his phone. He had a bunch of messages from Cora, two from his mother, and two from Boyd. He knew Cora and Boyd would be playing, so he just texted his mother back an answer to her query, both of them knowing she was just checking in, and pretended everything was normal. 

Shoving his phone into his pocket, he rolled his shoulders and headed for the kitchen to make dinner. He didn’t have much, mostly just pre-packaged frozen dinners and some cans of ravioli. He eventually settled for Kraft Dinner macaroni and cheese, boiling water for the noodles and heading to his laptop to bring it out of sleep mode. 

Yanking on his wireless headset when it booted up entirely, he opened up Steam and waited for it to connect, then sent Laura a message. It took her almost thirty seconds to respond, since she was likely in another screen for the game, but she sent him the voice chat invite and he accepted it. The second he was connected to the room, he eyed the names and nodded, satisfied it was all the usual players, even as Cora whined in his ear about something being unfair. 

Derek wandered back to his water while he listened to Erica scream at Isaac Lahey for having _dared_ sabotage her. Isaac just cackled darkly through the headset, insisting it was all part of the fun. 

_“Hey, at least **Derek’s** not here. That walking encyclopaedia **always** creams us all at these trivia games,”_ Isaac insisted. 

“And I’m going to cream you again tonight,” Derek informed him, staring at the water as if it would help it boil faster. 

_“Oh snap!”_ Erica said with a laugh. _“Laura, you bitch! Warn us when he’s coming next time! I’d have read a few more books to up my knowledge.”_

 _“It’s more fun when he’s playing anyway,”_ Laura insisted. _“You guys aren’t challenging enough for my brilliant, **brilliant** mind.” _

_“What brilliant mind? You mean that one lightbulb you have illuminating a dark, empty void?”_ Cora asked, which earned a chorus of, “Oh!”s in response. 

_“Shots fired,”_ Isaac said with a laugh. _“Laura, you okay over there?”_

 _“She just left the house to murder Cora,”_ Laura’s longtime boyfriend—and mate—Jason Gordon said with a laugh. _“Cora, better start running.”_

Derek listened to them all banter, adding the noodles into the boiling water and covering it. It was the usual group, mostly their pack barring the adults. Which always worked out well, since their game capped at eight. Boyd, Erica, Isaac, Laura, Cora, Malia, Jason and him—when he played. 

Laura had bought a few games called _The Jackbox Party Pack_ which were basically boxsets of weird but fun games that could be played remotely with an entire team of people. They connected through Steam to be able to voice chat while they played, but overall they just had to add the game’s site and room code to their phone, and they could play completely remotely with one another. 

Most of them were trivia-based, but a few were voting-based. Derek always killed the trivia ones, because he read a lot in his avoidance of humans. He wasn’t in the game yet, so he couldn’t hear the questions, but he could tell that Cora _had_ been winning, before being overtaken by Erica, who was overtaken by Isaac, who in turn was _re_ -overtaken by Erica. 

By the time they finished the round, Derek’s noodles were cooked and he listened to them bicker about the unfairness of the game while he mixed in butter, milk and the cheese powder. Once his Kraft Dinner was ready, he dumped it all into a large bowl, drowned it in ketchup, stuck a fork in it, and went back to his computer. 

“I’m good,” he informed Laura, sitting down in his chair and getting comfortable, shoving a bite of food into his mouth. 

_“Ugh, gross. Are we going to hear you masticating all night?”_ Cora demanded. 

Derek made a show of being extra loud with his chewing, _just_ to piss her off. She groaned in disgust as Laura sent him an invite for the game and he opened it, pulling his phone out to input the code on the website and waiting to join the room. Once he was in, Laura started the next round. 

As much as he hated admitting it, it was actually really fun. Getting to tease each other and mock one another for things they knew and didn’t know. Sabotaging each other in an attempt to get one step ahead of everyone else. Just—being a bunch of idiot friends, hanging out at a distance, and helping everyone keep their minds occupied. He knew he was the one who needed the immediate distraction, but this wasn’t the first time they’d all played _Jackbox Games_ to help someone get their mind off something unpleasant. 

Halfway through their round, they took a break so that people could use the restroom or grab some snacks. Derek went to hunt down some applesauce in his pantry. Derek had always loved all things apple—apple sauce, apple pie, dried apples, apple strudels, whatever. Ever since moving out into his own place years ago, the one thing he always had in stock in his pantry was applesauce. He was pretty sure the store in the village only carried it because of him, not like the resort bought any from them given they got food delivered in bulk. 

By the time eleven hit, Derek _really_ had to call it a night. Unlike Erica, who had the night off and worked a backwards schedule anyway, _he_ had work in the morning. Both Boyd and Isaac had ducked out around nine, and Jason had bid everyone goodnight a half hour later. Now, it was Derek’s turn. The rest of the idiots could be sleep-deprived. 

_“Good night Derek,”_ Cora called loudly, as if she were trying to scream it to him across their property from her cabin to his. _“I love you!”_

“Go to bed, you’re clearly delusional.” 

_“Night Derek,”_ Laura said, a few choruses of it continuing from Erica and Malia. 

“Night,” he said, and closed out of the chat, pulling his headset off. He plugged it in to charge, putting his computer to sleep after logging out of Steam, and closed out of the game on his phone. He opened his messages to Laura and sent her a quick thank you for forcing him to stop being antisocial. 

They were pack animals, and he knew that, he really did. But sometimes, he forgot that when he was hurting, his pack was hurting, too. Sometimes he liked to just hide away in his cabin and pretend nothing and no one existed. 

Sighing in aggravation at the realization that work was now looming, he went to plug his phone in after reading Laura’s response, then headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

Tomorrow was another day, after all. 

No matter how hard he wished for it _not_ to be. 

* * *

Stiles frowned down at his PSP, tongue between his teeth while he attempted to get to the next level of his game. He’d been at it for almost an hour though, and seemed to have issues with this level. He supposed it made sense, he hadn’t played this game in a long time, but given he was stuck inside while his friends skied and snowboarded, it was this or books. Not that he had a problem with books, but he only had three of them and he was here for two weeks, so he had to pace himself. 

As soon as he’d woken up that morning after sharing with Jackson—who _didn’t_ murder him for his violent sleeping—he’d showered, gotten dressed, and immediately headed down so he could both escape Matt, and not get depressed at the fact that he was stuck inside while his friends went out to enjoy the snow. 

Stupid ACL deciding to fuck him over right before his vacation! 

On the plus side, at least Danny had forced Matt out onto the slopes to avoid Stiles stuck inside with him. He was sure that wouldn’t last long, but any reprieve he got from the guy, the better. It was bad enough they were in the same room fucking _facing_ each other on the beds, the fact that he wasn’t stuck in the same one as him was his only solace. 

And at least breakfast had been good despite him eating alone, and relatively inexpensive given where they were. He’d gotten a hot chocolate from the little hole-in-the-wall café by the entrance and was now sitting at one of the large windows that overlooked the ski hills on the in-built cushy bench. There were couches and benches all along the inside wall, presumably for people coming back in to take short breaks from the cold, and he’d asked the girl at the front desk if he was allowed to camp out there all day. She’d confirmed he could, so this was where he would live for a while. 

The room was nice and all, but it would get lonely really fast if he was there all day every day. He had two events planned, one per week, but he had to watch his finances so for the most part, he’d be inside. 

Oh well, he could people watch, he supposed. And it was kind of interesting listening to all the conversations going on around him. 

When he died _yet again_ , he sighed and let the PSP fall into his lap, rubbing at his face with both hands and trying not to whine. Maybe he should take a walk to the small village, see what they had going on there. He’d been trying to avoid it as much as possible, not wanting to do it right on the first day, but maybe one of their stores had some books? If he knew he had the option to get more reading material, he’d feel more inclined to read the ones he’d brought along. 

Besides, he wanted to try that bakery, and they’d headed out so late last night that all they’d really done was grab booze—for those who could enjoy it—and snacks. They hadn’t gotten nearly as many groceries as planned, so maybe that was something he could do? It’d be an errand, at any rate. 

Sighing while shoving his PSP into his back pocket, he stood up with a stretch and grabbed his hot chocolate cup, returning it to the little café before turning to head for the elevator to grab his jacket. He was halfway there when he paused, eyes on the front desk. The same Werewolf dude—Derek, if memory served—was working today. He looked just as good today as he had yesterday, wearing a black, long-sleeved shirt with his hair all wind-swept and his _beard_. God, Stiles had a thing for beards. 

That wasn’t what caught his attention though. Stiles had been sneaking looks at him all morning—he was a weak man, all right, he had _needs_ —and had noticed him getting hit on a _lot_. With cheekbones like that, not surprising in the slightest. Usually though, when he got hit on, he was still polite and looked more annoyed than anything else. 

He didn’t look annoyed right now. 

A blonde woman was standing at the counter, leaning forward almost to the point where it looked like she was trying to climb _over_ the damn thing. Derek was leaning back in his seat, arms crossed almost defensively over his chest, and eyes looking anywhere but at her. His shoulders were tensed, and he looked really stressed. Like, _extremely_ stressed. 

The girl working with him seemed to have noticed, but she was busy on the phone, presumably chatting with someone trying to ask questions or book a room or something. She kept casting glances at her co-worker, as if she’d read his body language, but couldn’t do anything because of the call she was on. 

Stiles was glad she was able to read that he was uncomfortable, even if she couldn’t help him. Stiles himself excelled at reading body language because he’d perfected it. Years of being in a Werewolf pack and all that, he had to be able to read a situation—and people—in an instant to be sure he could protect his friends. And while this guy wasn’t his friend—wasn’t even an _acquaintance_ —he couldn’t in good conscience walk away when the guy was clearly uncomfortable. 

Looking around briefly for an idea, a thought occurred to him and Stiles moved instantly towards the counter, hearing the tail-end of the woman’s comment about Derek’s beard. He didn’t hesitate to get right up into her personal space, moving right beside her and leaning forward a bit on the counter. 

“Hey man, sorry to bother, but you’re out of toilet paper in the bathroom and I’ve got a bit of a situation.” 

Derek’s eyes snapped to him, looking startled for a split second before his features settled into something more stoic. 

“Excuse me,” the woman beside him said. “We were having a pleasant conversation.” 

“One that’s going to get really _un_ pleasant if I have an accident right beside you, lady. This is an emergency.” He turned to offer her a tight smile and felt his stomach drop. 

Oh shit. 

Oh fuckity fuck. 

The second he looked over at her, she frowned slightly, but had a sugary sweet smile on her face, pointing at him briefly. “You look familiar. Do I know you?” 

“Nope,” Stiles offered instantly. “But we’re about to get very close in a minute, considering my urgent need.” 

She eyed him appraisingly for a few more seconds, then shrugged one shoulder neatly, turning back to Derek. “I should let you get back to work, but I’ll see you again real soon Der-bear.” She blew him a kiss, and Stiles saw the guy almost flinch at the action. 

The woman turned and walked away, heading for the exit and presumably the ski slopes. She was wearing all the gear for it, so Stiles assumed she’d just left her skis outside, given she’d likely just come in to harass Derek. 

“I’ll grab you some paper,” Derek said, Stiles turning back to him. 

He frowned. “What? Oh, no. I don’t actually know if it’s out or not, I just wanted to help.” 

Derek paused, eying him in confusion for a second. “Help?” 

Stiles shrugged. “You looked uncomfortable and I could tell you wanted her to leave you alone. So I just made the story up.” 

“You lied?” Derek’s eyes shifted to Stiles’ chest then, and he realized what he was implying. Stiles had just lied in front of him, and it probably hadn’t even registered. Man, the guy was _really_ uncomfortable if he’d been _that_ distracted. 

“Like I said, you looked uncomfortable. You probably weren’t really paying attention.” He patted the counter top once and offered him a small smile. “I’m glad I could help. Enjoy your day.” 

Derek just watched him until Stiles turned to head for the elevators, feeling good he’d done something to help the guy. Evidently they had history, and Stiles wasn’t at _all_ surprised because _fuck_! 

“Scott’s gonna be pissed,” Stiles muttered, pulling his phone out while waiting on the elevator. He moved aside when the doors opened to let people out, eyes on his phone while opening his messages. He knew Scott wouldn’t see it until he took a break somewhere, but he needed to give him a head’s up. 

Stepping into the lift, he hit the fourth floor before typing out a text, the doors closing slowly and the elevator beginning its ascent. 

**[Stiles]**  
Heads up for Ally, Kate’s here  
**[Stiles]**  
Just saw her in the lobby harassing the hot Werewolf

Fuck, this vacation was just getting worse and worse. 

Stiles didn’t know Kate Argent very well. He and Allison were friends, but the few times the lady had come to town, Stiles had mostly steered clear. He had no reason to hang out at the Argent household anyway, so it wasn’t surprising. 

There was a lot of bad blood between Kate and Allison’s family. Apparently the woman didn’t follow the proper Hunter code, something which had gotten her father Gerard killed a few years back by a pack of Alphas who hadn’t taken kindly to being hunted for no reason. No one in the Hunter community had retaliated, because it was clear the Argents were in the wrong. 

Kate had taken on her father’s bad habits, and while she didn’t try to murder innocent Supernatural creatures anymore—key word being _anymore_ —she still wasn’t a good person. She’d tried to infect Scott with a rare strain of wolfsbane during one of her visits to get him to attack Allison in hopes that her father Chris would retaliate by killing Scott. Thankfully it hadn’t worked, because Stiles and Lydia had found out about it by accident and stopped anything from going down. 

Chris and Victoria Argent had been _furious_ that Kate would dare risk their daughter’s life because of a code she wasn’t willing to follow. Kate was basically estranged from the rest of the Argents, and to have her show up here was a bit of a bad thing. Allison was going to be stressed and upset the entire trip now, and even Scott would be uneasy. 

Honestly, Stiles wasn’t too thrilled, either. He worried about what she might try and pull if she remembered who Stiles was. Not to mention the poor Werewolf at the front desk. He had no escape, and it was clear there was some bad blood there. Kate obviously knew Derek was a Werewolf. 

Reaching his room and tugging on his coat and boots, Stiles realized that just because Kate knew about Derek didn’t mean that _Derek_ knew about _Kate_. Maybe he should be _extra_ sure that this was knowledge on both sides. After all, Kate was a bad person, and if Derek didn’t know she was a Hunter, he would feel terrible if something happened because he’d _assumed_ he did. Nodding to himself, he headed back down after locking up, intent on telling Derek about Kate—just to be safe—but the guy was gone from the front desk when he hit the lobby again. 

Well, wasn’t like he wouldn’t see him again, so Stiles didn’t dwell on it. He just headed out of the resort and made his way down the long road towards the village, pulling his phone out to snap some pictures of various trees and snow-covered little cottages. 

The place really _was_ cute. Stiles wondered how it looked in the summer. Right now it was like a winter wonderland, but he was sure it looked gorgeous with the trees in bloom and the greenery sprouting everywhere. If things went well and they all had a good time, maybe they could come back later in the summer. 

If he could afford it. Money was still tight, but he was working part-time and with a group of them, it was more affordable. 

Shoving his phone back into his jeans pocket and then putting his hands into the ones in his coat to warm them up, Stiles walked leisurely through the little village, looking in at all the shops. Most of them were touristy shit, with overpriced trinkets and personalized mugs and magnets. The rest of them were mostly food-related—restaurants, cafés, the grocery store. 

He ducked into the bakery, inhaling deeply and smiling at the fresh bread smell, and then perused all the offerings. He ended up buying himself a scone, as well as a pie for later. He didn’t know that he _needed_ a full pie, but if he was stuck inside for two weeks, well, he at least had some pie to eat! 

Heading to the grocery store next while he ate his scone, he loaded up on a few snacks, as well as some various food stuff that they hadn’t gotten around to buying the day before. Eating at the resort’s restaurant every now and then was fine, but it would get expensive quickly, so having the option to make eggs or have some cereal in the room was better. Besides, he doubted his friends would want to wait a long time in a restaurant, eat a heavy meal, and then head out to ski afterwards. 

They had a lot of ready-made pastas, as well, so he grabbed a few cans of ravioli and spaghetti-os, as well as some good old Kraft Dinner and Sidekicks. Would help for when the others just wanted something quick to make before heading out. He actually wondered if any of them had returned to the resort for some food yet. They’d been out for at least three hours by now, and it was almost one. Stiles himself was planning on eating something when he got back, though since he had time to kill, he’d probably go to the restaurant again, check out the prices for their lunch and dinner items. 

If all else failed, he could just eat the pie. 

When he got to the till, before setting everything down, he asked about books and was disappointed to find out all they really had was magazines. Apparently reading wasn’t one of the top things to do at the resort, and the locals tended to just order books online or buy them on e-readers. Stiles didn’t have an e-reader, so he was stuck with what he had. He’d make do, he supposed. 

The girl at the counter was friendly, and clearly extremely bored. There was no one else in the store so the two of them chatted for a little bit. She confirmed the only business they tended to get was from people at the resort, and a few of the Hales who lived in the area. Most of the locals lived further down the road, and there was a larger Wal-Mart-type of store in the city a few hours out that everyone tended to go to. Only the lazy locals or the ones who didn’t really need much tended to come to the store in the village, otherwise it was just the guests. 

It sounded like the guests came by usually later in the evening, which made sense since most of them would be out doing activities or skiing during the day. Stiles was the third person to walk in all day, and since he was bored, and _she_ was bored, he stuck around and just chatted with her for a little while. 

She was really nice. Her name was Heather and her parents had moved up to the area about fifteen years ago when she was still in middle school. She’d gone to school in the nearby city, and her parents had bought the store with another couple. They did good business and eventually bought out the other couple who moved away, so now Heather was stuck working there. It wasn’t a huge inconvenience for her, since most of her friends lived in the area and she got free room and board at home, but it was clear she had ideas of grandeur. 

She didn’t want to live in this tiny little town forever, and asked Stiles a lot of questions about where he was from. 

He also grew up in a small town, so he wasn’t the best person to talk to, but he _did_ go to Brown, which was in a bigger city than his tiny little Beacon Hills, California home. They spent some time talking about that before Stiles realized he had perishables and needed to go. Heather was very nice and invited him back whenever he liked, and was even kind enough to tell him about a shortcut between the trees near the back of the store. It was uphill back towards the resort, but so was the road and the forest was a shorter distance. 

Stiles thanked her for the tip—and the chat—and headed back out. He was pleased with how much _faster_ it was to get back to the resort, since the groceries weren’t light—why had he gotten so many canned items?! 

The path let him out right at the back of the resort, near some wooden stairs leading up. Stiles was quite pleased by this shortcut and he hustled up the stairs with all the bags, walking through the sliding door into the lobby. Derek and his co-worker were both still working, and he paused on his way past them, wondering if he could say something like he’d intended to earlier. 

The girl was busy with someone and Derek was just typing on his computer, scowling at the screen like it had offended him. Stiles figured it’d be quick, and he could be quiet, so he moved quickly to the front desk and saw Derek’s fingers pause. He probably thought Stiles was coming over to hit on him again. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, leaning a bit closer on the counter. “I just wanted to let you know, in case you didn’t, which you might but you know, just in case...” He winced, glanced quickly at the girl beside them, and lowered his voice further. “That woman from before? She’s my friend’s disowned aunt, and she’s batshit crazy. Also, she’s a Hunter who doesn’t follow the code so just—be careful.” 

Derek looked startled but Stiles noticed people had just walked in with suitcases so he didn’t linger to chat. He moved away from the counter quickly, offered Derek a small smile, and turned to head for the lifts. 

When he got back to the room, the others had returned and Scott asked why he didn’t answer his phone. Stiles just help up his bag-laden arms in explanation and had to protect his pie when all the wolves tried to go right for it. 

It seemed they’d had enough of the slopes for today, though Stiles suspected that was because of the news Allison had gotten. She seemed a bit out of sorts. Sad and angry at the same time, and he kept hearing her muttering about stupid family members ruining her vacation. Stiles wished he hadn’t said anything, but at the same time, he also knew that it’d be worse if he hadn’t and Allison had bumped into Kate unexpectedly later. 

They hung around in the room for a while after that, the others eating some of the canned food Stiles had bought while Kira pulled out some cards so they could play a few games together. Stiles didn’t worry about the money for the food yet, since they already had plans to figure out the prices at the end of everything. It was easier to just have whoever pay for whatever and then figure out all the totals at the end. 

Stiles played cards with Kira, Danny, Matt and Jackson for a while. Scott and Allison went off for a _romantic_ stroll—likely to help Allison clear her head—and Lydia was busy on her phone while commenting on people’s poor choices as she watched them play. 

The late afternoon went by _much_ faster with people around to keep him entertained, and Stiles was surprised when Danny commented that they needed to head down for dinner before the restaurant closed. Stiles texted for Scott to come back, and once he and Allison did, they went to dinner as a large group together, joking and laughing and probably bothering all the other patrons, but they didn’t really care. Others were just as loud as them, and everyone was trying to be in a good mood to lift Allison’s spirits. 

Thankfully, no Kate appearance while they were at dinner, but Stiles kind of wanted to ask how long she’d be staying. He wondered if he could sweet talk the girl at the front into telling him. He doubted Derek would be interested in giving up that information. 

After dinner they went back upstairs and chilled in their suite. Jackson turned on the TV in their room and the two groups split up. Allison and the other girls hung out in one room while the boys entertained themselves in the other. It was nice, and fun, and they had a good time. 

Before long, the snacks came out—Werewolves, so Stiles wasn’t surprised they were hungry right after dinner—and he and Danny shared a look at how quickly Jackson and Scott devoured them all. At the speed they were going, it was going to be an expensive vacation. 

“You know you guys literally just decimated our entire reserve of snacks, right?” Stiles asked, watching Jackson ball up one of the bags of Doritos and toss it towards the trash. He smirked when he landed the shot on the first try. 

Jackson Whittemore eating Doritos was something that never would’ve happened back before he became a Werewolf-Kanima hybrid. It was insanely unfair, in Stiles’ opinion. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure to keep track of what we ate versus the rest of you,” Scott promised, nudging him lightly. “Though we didn’t actually buy anything sweet. How did we forget to buy anything sweet?” 

“You were too distracted by the scenery,” Matt said with a smarmy smirk, leaning against Stiles’ back to talk over his shoulder. 

Stiles instantly turned to give Danny an annoyed look, who sipped at his beer and pretended not to notice. 

“Do you mind?” Stiles asked dryly, glancing over his shoulder. The position put his face _much_ too close to Matt’s for comfort. “I’m feeling a bit claustrophobic.” 

“Sorry,” Matt said with a small, pleased smile, and while he _did_ pull away, he sure took his sweet ass time doing so. 

“What about the pie?” Jackson offered when silence reigned for too long, the others clearly wanting to move the topic of Matt and his inability to understand the word ‘no’ along. 

“Don’t touch my pie,” Stiles snapped, pointing his finger at him. “That’s _my_ pie. I am eating that whole thing myself.” 

“I kind of want pie now,” Scott admitted. “Or cake.” 

“Cake sounds good,” Jackson agreed. 

“Where are we going to get cake in this place at ten at night?” Matt asked, Stiles’ expression turning stony when he _again_ leaned into his back and put his chin on his shoulder. 

Seriously, Stiles was going to end up arrested if Matt didn’t _back off_. 

“There’s cake at the store,” Stiles said, getting to his feet and almost having Matt fall over. He kind of wished he _had_ , but recognized how childish that was. “I actually know a shortcut, and I’ve been inside all day, fresh air will do me some good.” 

“I wholeheartedly support this plan,” Jackson offered, motioning for Stiles to shoo. 

Stiles rolled his eyes, flipping him off. Jackson was going to treat him like the hired help, at this point, but whatever. Anything to get a bit of a break from Matt. While the afternoon and evening had been fun, Matt kept _doing things_ , and it was getting more and more annoying as time passed. He just needed a break. A small reprieve so he didn’t literally murder him and hide his body out in the woods. 

He could, too. Stiles was pretty handy with a shovel, and there was a _lot_ of forest around here. 

“I can go with you,” Matt said, getting off the bed and stretching. “Could use a walk.” 

Before Stiles could turn around and snap something rude at him, Danny very loudly called for Matt to come and look at a video that had just come up on Twitter, and basically forced him back down on the bed while allowing Stiles to make his escape. He didn’t have much time, so he hastily yanked on his boots and coat, grabbed his hat and rushed out of the room. He didn’t really have the right clothing on for this—no sweater under his jacket, no gloves, regular socks instead of his thick wool ones—but he figured he’d be fine. It wasn’t a long walk, and if he went through the shortcut, it’d be maybe twenty minutes, if that. It took him about seven to walk back from the store that afternoon, and that had all been uphill, so he was sure he’d make it there and back quickly. 

When he reached the lobby, having taken the stairs to be _sure_ Matt couldn’t catch up, he nodded a greeting to the lone girl behind the front counter, who smiled back at him. She had her phone out in front of her, evidently texting someone or maybe playing a game, but she’d looked up at the movement and it was polite to acknowledge her. 

It wasn’t the same girl from the afternoon, which made sense since Derek and the other girl—and presumably another person—likely did the morning shift and this girl did the evening shift. It made sense there’d only be one person because he doubted it was busy later at night. Especially _this_ late. Shit, it really _was_ past ten at night and he was heading out to buy a fucking cake because the two moronic Werewolves in this group wanted cake. 

“Whatever, gets me away from Matt,” Stiles muttered to himself, exiting the lobby through the back door and heading for the stairs. It was snowing when he got outside, and evidently had been for a while given the layer of snow on everything. It seemed nobody else had gone through the back in a while because Stiles’ footprints were the only ones in the snow as he descended the stairs. 

The immediate area was brightly lit due to the lights shining off the resort, but the forest already looked dark and foreboding. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if maybe the road wouldn’t be better, but he was already getting cold and they hadn’t mentioned any warning of wild animals. He was sure it was fine. 

Pulling his phone out, he checked the battery—well over fifty percent—and then turned on the flashlight function, looking around briefly before identifying the exit he’d come through and heading towards the patch of trees. 

Apparently it had snowed a _lot_ during their time inside, because when he stepped into the forest, his foot went through a pile of snow up and over his boots and he felt some of it leak into his shoe. Great, his feet were going to be cold in no time. His one hand was already frozen from holding the phone, and he didn’t have his scarf or anything. 

He probably should’ve spent the extra few seconds getting warmer clothes, since it _was_ late at night and thus much colder, but he really, _really_ hadn’t wanted to get stuck walking to the store with Matt. He needed a fucking break from the guy. 

Besides, it was fine. He wouldn’t be out long, and he would warm up in the store. He’d be okay, and moving was going to help keep him warm. 

Stiles could see his breath as he exhaled, his nose and chin frozen, and having to switch hands periodically while he held his phone aloft. Eventually he pulled the sleeve of his jacket over his left hand and held the phone in that, the beam bouncing with his uneven footsteps as he moved further and further into the woods. 

It was as he started to feel his toes freeze a little bit that he realized... he’d been walking for a _while_... His mind had mostly been focussing on Matt and how shitty this holiday was going to be because of his presence that he hadn’t noticed he _definitely_ should’ve made it to the other side of the forest path by now. 

Stiles stopped where he was, breathing a little laboured and his lungs hurting from the cold air. Every exhale out had white puffs escape his mouth and he turned in a circle with his phone held up in an attempt to get his bearings. 

“Great,” he muttered to himself, feeling tremors beginning to take hold. He was definitely way far off the path, and it wasn’t getting any warmer. “Shit.” 

Debating for a second, he figured the best course of action right now would be to retrace his steps backwards. If he followed his own footprints back, he would reach the resort and could go warm up in the lobby. Maybe by then he’d tolerate Matt’s presence a bit more and he could go upstairs to get some warmer clothes before taking the _road_ to the store. It would take longer, but whatever. And if all else failed, the stupid wolves could eat his damn pie, he’d just buy a new one tomorrow. 

Deciding that was the better call, he turned back to his footsteps and slowly began following them back through the darkness, his teeth beginning to chatter and the lightbeam on his phone shaking with each tremor that coursed through him. 

He kept an eye on the time, noting he’d been out for well over half an hour—how had he not noticed sooner, what the fuck?!—and tried not to panic when he saw his battery life was quickly draining. He’d been using the flashlight for a long time, and if he didn’t get back before his phone died, he was _fucked_. 

Which didn’t end up being a problem, because the snow had begun to fall more heavily, and within a few minutes, Stiles was having trouble _seeing_ his footprints in the snow. He could feel his heart beginning to increase in speed, but forced himself not to panic yet. It was fine, it was okay. He would be okay. If he completely lost sight of them, he could just... call Scott. Him and Jackson could come out and find him. Werewolves and all, they had good noses. He’d just have to sit tight and wait for them. 

Stiles had been walking for a good ten minutes when he came to an abrupt halt, feeling his stomach drop. He’d been following his footprints for a while, and had hit a point a little ways back where he’d thought he couldn’t spot them and then had thankfully caught sight of them again. But now, as he followed along, he realized those footprints hadn’t been his. It looked like maybe some kind of animal—a rabbit or something, he didn’t know—had been making its way through the snow as well, and the overall size of the animal with the snow covering the smaller tracks made it _look_ like his footprints. 

“Okay.” Stiles glanced at his phone, wincing at the battery being close to ten percent. It was probably time to call Scott. Turning off the flashlight, mostly to save battery and kind of _freaking out_ over how dark it was—though the half-moon reflecting off the snow helped a bit—he opened his contacts with shaking hands and scrolled through to Scott’s name. Once he hit it, he put the phone to his ear, looking around, and froze. 

The phone rang in his ear, but his eyes were locked on something big and moving through the trees. 

Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

If that was a fucking _bear_ , Stiles was _fucked_! 

The line kept ringing and ringing, but Scott didn’t answer. Eventually his voicemail picked up and Stiles very slowly lowered the phone and hung up without looking, eyes still on the dark shape in the trees. He glanced down for only a second to turn on the flashlight function again, then lifted it ever so slowly upwards, and felt his breath freeze in his lungs. 

It was a wolf. 

It was a motherfucking _wolf_. The size of a God damn fucking _horse_. Literally, he’d never _seen_ an animal so fucking huge. He knew wolves were big, he’d seen videos of them while researching Werewolves, but good fucking _Lord_ , he’d never seen one up close and personal.

And he was sure he was about to get _up close and personal_ with the damn thing’s _teeth_! 

Stiles didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t exactly taken wilderness training, so he legitimately had no idea what to do right now. Should he try and climb a tree? Running was out of the question, he’d definitely get caught by the damn thing. 

Fuck, he was going to die in this stupid forest because of fucking _Matt_! 

The wolf took a few steps in his direction and Stiles stumbled back, almost tripping but managing to keep his footing. He aimed the beam wildly around, trying to catch sight of the wolf again, but it just paused a few feet from where it had just been, blue eyes shining through the darkness at him. 

“I’m going to kill Danny,” Stiles decided, taking a slow step backwards. “And by kill, I mean haunt. Because I’ll be dead. I’m going to haunt him forever. I’m going to make him never get laid ever again. Just—so much haunting.” 

The wolf kept moving forward slowly and Stiles wondered where its friends were. Wolves hunted in packs, and he was sure he was about to get blind-sided by another one in seconds. When he heard a branch snap to his left, he swung the beam around in that direction, trying to find the source of the noise, but there was nothing. 

Aiming back at the one wolf he’d seen, his stomach bottomed out when he found it gone. 

_Fuck it,_ Stiles decided, then turned around and ran. 

* * *

The snow was cold against his paws, but honestly, that was the way Derek liked it. He liked the freedom of running through the woods in the middle of the night before heading to bed, especially after a long, stressful day. He’d been out longer than he’d intended, considering the late hour, but after everything that had gone on that day, he wasn’t really surprised. 

Laura had offered to go with him, but he’d kind of wanted to be alone. Clear his head, figure things out. He didn’t really know _what_ he was trying to figure out, but he felt a little weird. 

Well, not weird, just... antsy? Itchy? He didn’t know. He felt _something_. Ever since Kate had sauntered up to the counter, he’d felt guarded and uncomfortable, and then that _guy_ had shown up and just... chased her away. 

He hadn’t recognized him, not at first. It wasn’t until he’d come back later and mentioned that Kate was a Hunter that he realized it was that one Werewolf kid’s friend. He was evidently human himself, but Derek hadn’t been keeping track of who’d been in the group overall, focussing on the two main threats in their numbers. 

But now that he _knew_ it was that kid, he felt really weird. _Especially_ when he came back around to warn him about Kate. Not that Derek needed the warning or anything, but still. _He_ hadn’t known that, and he’d been carrying all those bags, and was obviously tired and cold and wanted to go to his room, but he’d still detoured to walk through the lobby to the front desk to warn Derek about Kate. 

_Why_ had he done that? Derek wanted to believe he was a good person, but similarly, how did this guy _know_ about Kate? He’d mentioned she was his friend’s aunt, but even that was kind of concerning. Though he doubted he was anything like her, not with having two Werewolf friends. Then again, maybe he was playing them the same way Kate had tried to play him? But if that were true, he wouldn’t have warned Derek away from Kate. 

It didn’t make sense, he didn’t understand, and not understanding was making him feel antsier. 

So, he ran. He ran through the trees and along the bank of the small stream that had frozen over when winter came and just tried not to think for a while. He mostly stuck around his own property, not wanting to venture out too far since it was late and he’d be going home to bed soon. 

But he didn’t know what was going on, because he _knew_ he should head back, it was late and he was getting a bit tired, but he felt like he was _looking_ for something. Like he had something he needed to find, though what that was outside his own home in the middle of the night, he had no idea. Still, the feeling wouldn’t leave him, so he kept doing a wide circle around his house, enjoying the freedom of his full-shift form, and keeping track of the moon overhead. 

Just when he’d decided fuck the feeling, he needed to get some sleep, he slowed to a trot so he could walk leisurely back to his house when he smelled it. Since the kid’s appearance that third time, where he’d warned him away from Kate, Derek had noticed he had a distinct scent. It was kind of woodsy, and almost smelled like the forest itself. Derek had attributed it to the kid having been out in the forest, walking through the back path—how he’d found the shortcut, Derek didn’t know, but whatever. 

But it was more than that. He smelled like the forest, and also like apples and cinnamon, and fresh bread. Three scents that Derek absolutely _loved_ , but had no reason to be sticking to the guy’s skin. He kept trying to remember what he’d smelled like the first two times, but he hadn’t really been paying attention either time, if he was honest. The first time he’d been distracted by the wolf, because they did _not_ get Werewolves up in these parts, least of all Alphas. The second time, Kate kind of held all of his attention. 

But now... now Derek could smell it again. Which would’ve been fine except, why could he smell it _here_? This was well outside the usual areas the guests were ever in, and it made no sense for the guy to be all the way out here. So was his nose playing tricks on him? 

Turning, Derek scented the air and began to follow the scent. It seemed to be blowing at him due to the direction of the wind, and he actually wondered if maybe his scent was so strong that he was sitting outside the resort or something and the wind was just bringing it along this far out.

It became clear a few moments later that this wasn’t the case, because he could hear the distinct sound of an elevated heartbeat. Which made absolutely _no_ sense because—was the guy actually _here_? All the way out here? This was so far from the resort, what the hell was the moron doing all the way out here?! 

Derek sped up a bit, listening to the frantic heartbeat, and the closer he got, the more he could hear. The guy’s teeth were chattering, and his breaths were shaky when he exhaled. Shit, he really was all the way out here, this wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him. Had he gotten lost? But lost trying to get _where_?! 

Making his way through the trees, the guy’s scent stronger and the sounds closer now, he heard him whisper, “Okay,” to himself before his heart rate spiked again. Derek moved through another small group of trees and, sure enough, there he was. 

He was standing in the dark between two large trees, phone at his ear and breath puffing out quickly as he breathed. He looked around briefly while the line rang, the sound clear to Derek even from this distance, and then his heart stuttered before it began beating double time. He was looking right at Derek, suggesting he’d seen him, and by the looks of it, he was slowly panicking. 

Shit, and _cold_. Derek could see him trembling from here, and his lips were blue, and his hands were so fucking pale... Jesus, he didn’t even have a _scarf_ on, what the hell was wrong with him?! 

He heard voicemail pick up on the line, and recognized the voice as belonging to the wolf who’d checked in. He’d made a point of remembering as much as he could about the guy, so he knew that was who the moron in front of him had been trying to call. He figured maybe he _had_ gotten lost and was now calling his Werewolf buddy to sniff him out. 

Derek made sure to stay still, not wanting to freak the guy out, but he knew it was a moot point when he turned on the flashlight function on his phone and then promptly froze when he lifted it and aimed it right at him. It was bright, almost _too_ bright after all the running in the dark he’d been doing, but Derek tolerated it. He just had to figure out what to _do_. 

He wasn’t exactly going to shift right here. Sure, he was a Werewolf, but it would still be _cold_ for him too if he shifted and had to traipse back to his place _naked_ with the guy. 

Maybe he could make him recognize it was him? Or, that it was a Werewolf and not a _wolf_ wolf? At least then he could lead the idiot back to his place so he didn’t die out here in the cold. Then again, he didn’t know how much this guy knew about Werewolves. If his friends were bitten, they couldn’t fully shift like he could, so maybe he didn’t know about this. 

Still, he had to do _something_ so the moron didn’t freeze to death. 

Taking a few steps forward, he stopped instantly when the guy stumbled backwards urgently, flailing and almost falling over, the light’s beam arcing through the air before settling back on him once more. 

Derek didn’t move, hoping maybe that would be suspicious enough for him to clue in. 

Apparently not, because the idiot started babbling. “I’m going to kill Danny.” Oh shit, he did _not_ sound good. Derek needed to get him inside and warmed up quickly, God only knew how long he’d been out in this weather while underdressed. 

Derek slowly took a few steps forward, trying to close the distance at a molasses pace in an attempt to get him to _understand_ he wasn’t going to hurt him. But every step forward he took, the guy took one backwards, all while he continued to babble. 

“And by kill, I mean haunt,” he continued. “Because I’ll be dead. I’m going to haunt him forever.” 

This wasn’t working, his friends must be bitten, he didn’t seem to recognize that Derek wasn’t trying to hurt him. Shit, he didn’t know what to do. How far was he from his house? 

Derek lifted his nose to scent the air, trying to get his bearings while the kid kept going with his panicked babbling. 

“I’m going to make him never get laid ever again. Just—so much haunting.” 

Actually, they seemed to be relatively close to his place. Derek could probably race home in about three or four minutes. He just needed to yank on pants, a coat and some boots and he could race back out here to find the guy. He was a Werewolf, he didn’t need much more than that, he just knew he couldn’t be _naked_. That would be testing his abilities a little bit _too_ much. 

He tried to keep an ear out for their surroundings, but aside from a few snuffling animals that hadn’t gone into hibernation for the winter, he didn’t hear anything else. There was no danger here, he could race home and back in no time. 

When snow fell off a branch near the guy’s left, the rebound of it made a loud cracking sound split through the air. Derek hadn’t meant to turn away when the guy flailed in that direction, since he’d probably panic when he found the wolf gone from his immediate line of sight, but he’d already started to turn by then so he followed through.

It was fine, he’d be home and back in no time. 

His paws pounded against the snow-covered ground almost soundlessly, Derek racing back to his house as fast as he could while keeping an ear out for the guy. It sounded like he’d started running, probably beginning to panic given the wolf he’d found while lost in the middle of the woods in the dead of winter. Derek hoped he didn’t run for long or it’d take him a while to find him. 

Actually, maybe he should use his snowmobile. He tended to use it mostly for groceries or to go to his parents’ place when he was feeling lazy, and it was out of the shed right now. It’d be faster than running back to the guy in human form, and the sound of it would probably attract his attention. 

Deciding that would be the better course of action, Derek flew through the trees that bordered his property and began to shift immediately, his bones cracking and shifting and his fur beginning to recede. He snarled slightly when his face shifted, that one aspect always hurting more than the rest of him, and by the time he got to his front door, he was more human than animal. 

Pushing into his home, he ran for his bedroom to grab the jeans he’d discarded earlier, wrenching them on while hurrying back through his home to his front door where his boots and jackets were. He didn’t honestly know _why_ he was feeling so panicked, but he supposed he didn’t want a guest to die due to their own stupidity. 

A part of him acknowledged that it wasn’t that, he’d had to find lost guests before, but he ignored it. He didn’t know why he was so worried, but it didn’t matter. The guy needed to get help _now_ before he froze to death in the woods. 

Derek wrenched on his coat after doing up his jeans, finding it uncomfortable without underwear on but he didn’t have time to look for those. He just got his jacket on and zipped up before bending down and pulling on the closest boots he could find. It took him entirely too long to find the keys to his snowmobile on his shelf by the front door, but eventually he did and he rushed back out and around the house. 

Once he was on it and had it started, the sound of it reverberating loudly throughout the area, he turned it around quickly to head back the way he’d come, the light at the front shining through the darkness, and drove back through the trees, lifting his chin to scent the air once more so he could find the guy.

Honestly, he was annoyed at his friends. Derek’s place was far out from the resort, a good half-hour at a brisk pace. That meant this guy had been gone for at _least_ half an hour, if not longer, and his friends hadn’t noticed? What kind of friends _were_ they not to notice their human friend had gone out _underdressed_ in the cold winter night and hadn’t yet returned?! 

Fuck, where even had he been _going_?! It had to be eleven by now, for fuck’s sake! Even if he was on vacation, why was he wandering through the woods in the dead of night?! 

The smell was getting a bit more potent, and before long he heard shouting. He could see a light flashing in the trees, evidently the moron having heard his engine and trying to get his attention. Derek headed right for him, slowing down when he neared him and stopping almost right beside him. Fuck, he looked awful. 

“It was me,” Derek informed him, jerking his head to motion for him to climb on. 

“What?” he asked, teeth chattering and hands shaking while he shoved his phone into his pocket and climbed on behind Derek. 

“The wolf you were scared of. It was me.” 

The guy didn’t answer as Derek turned them around and drove them back towards his place. He knew the wind whipping at them likely wasn’t helping, especially since the other guy’s arms were wrapped around him and his hands were exposed, but at least he’d get them back there faster. 

He could feel him shaking against his back, and tried really hard to remember what he should be doing in a situation like this. He kind of wanted to shove him into a hot shower, but he honestly wasn’t sure that was the best thing to do. Humans were so fucking fragile, after all. 

But body heart was a thing, right? That happened in movies and whatever, didn’t it? Someone was freezing and the people got undressed and cuddled together? It was used more as a plot device than anything else, he was sure, but it had to have some merit to it. Derek could grab some blankets and they could go into his living room where the heating was a bit better and he could just... hold him or whatever. 

At least until he was at a more reasonable temperature. _Then_ he’d shove the moron into a scalding shower. 

When they reached his place, he parked around the side of his house and turned off the engine. It seemed to take a considerable effort for the guy to let him go, like he was turning into a statue. That couldn’t be good. 

Derek climbed off and helped the guy off as well, then pulled him along quickly towards his front door, opening it and shoving him inside before slamming it shut. 

“Go to the living room, heat’s better there,” he ordered, shucking his coat and hanging it up while kicking off his boots. 

The guy did as he was told, walking stiffly and blowing into his hands. Fuck, he looked and sounded terrible, how long had he been out there like this? What would’ve happened if Derek hadn’t found him?

He tried not to think about it because it made irrational panic shoot through him and he didn’t have time to analyse why the thought scared him so much. He just hurried into his room and dug through his drawers for some boxer-briefs before yanking off his jeans and replacing them with the shorts. Then he went to the hall closet for his spare duvets, grabbed two of them off the top shelf, and hurried into the living room. 

The guy was standing in the middle of it, hugging himself and looking around, teeth still chattering and frame wracked with tremors. 

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered, dumping one of the blankets onto the end of his couch before unfolding the other one.

Wide eyes turned to face him, the guy looking stunned, and seeming extremely startled at Derek’s sudden state of undress. “What?” He stumbled back a step. “Why?!” 

“Body heat, moron!” Derek snapped, getting one blanket unfolded and going for the other one. “We need to get your body temperature back up, and skin on skin does that, right? So take off your clothes before you freeze to death.” 

He seemed uncomfortable, like he wasn’t sure he really wanted to do this, but then seemed to recognize that Derek wasn’t trying to be creepy and legitimately wanted to help him. He kept his tuque on, but unzipped his jacket with shaking hards, Derek resisting the urge to let out an annoyed sigh when he saw him wearing a fucking _T-shirt_ underneath. Was he _insane_?! It was below freezing outside, and he was _human_! 

The coat was set aside on one of Derek’s chairs and he toed his boots off, but he seemed to get stuck trying to take the shirt off, like his limbs were too stiff to do it. Derek moved forward to help him, getting his shirt over his head and tossing it to join his coat. His hands were shaking too badly for him to unbutton his pants so Derek did it for him. Embarrassment wafted off the guy at that, but Derek ignored it. He was a Werewolf, this kind of thing meant nothing, and this was purely in an attempt to keep him from _dying_. 

Once the pants were undone, he wrenched them down the guy’s legs, two frozen hands settling on Derek’s shoulders while he lifted one foot off the ground, then the other. Derek didn’t bother taking off his socks, he just stood and tossed his jeans to join the rest of his clothes, then moved to the couch, settling on one end of it with the blankets and motioning for him to hurry up before he froze to death. 

Another brief moment of hesitation, but evidently his frozen body won out because he moved quickly to Derek and folded himself into his chest on the couch, his shoulder pressed against Derek’s armpit since he was half on his side. Derek pulled the blankets over both of them and wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his hands up and down along his skin to help warm him up faster. 

God, even his _back_ was cold, though it was nothing compared to his hands, which were pressed against Derek’s chest. He really hoped he’d found him in time, because he’d seen documentaries about people and frostbite and he did _not_ want that to happen to this guy. He was way too young for that kind of trauma. 

Tightening his hold on him while the guy continued to tremble, Derek just tried to ignore some of the irrational panic rising in his chest and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The guy really _did_ smell nice. It had been hours since he’d last seen him, but he still smelled exactly the same somehow. Forest, apples and cinnamon, and fresh bread. It was nice. And soothing. 

His hands continued to rub absently up and down his back, and Derek felt some of his tension begin to dissipate when the trembling began to diminish and eventually stopped. He didn’t seem interested in getting up when it was clear he was okay again—Derek had no idea how long it’d been—but he honestly couldn’t blame him. He was probably a little freaked out, what with having almost frozen to death. 

“Thanks,” he finally said after a long while. 

“What the hell were you even doing all the way out here?” Derek demanded, instead of just saying ‘you’re welcome’ like a normal person. 

“I was trying to freeze to death, clearly,” the guy said dryly. He started to pull away and something in Derek panicked at the thought that he was going to leave and head back outside into the cold, so he tightened his grip unconsciously. 

After a brief pause, the other man settled against him once more and didn’t try to pull away a second time. Derek stopped rubbing at his back, but he kept his arms around him, wanting him to get a bit more warmth before he let him get up. 

“I got lost,” the guy said after another bout of silence. 

Derek almost snorted at the obvious statement, but managed to hold it in. He’d already been a dick once, and at least the guy was trying to make conversation. “I caught your scent when I was out for a run,” he said instead. “I live far out from the resort, so I thought maybe I was wrong at first, but when I saw you, I figured you’d gotten turned around. I was trying to show you I wasn’t a threat, but I guess your friends are bitten and can’t turn into wolves.” 

The guy let out a small, startled laugh, his breath puffing out against Derek’s chest. It felt kind of nice, but he pushed the thought away because he didn’t want this to get weird. He didn’t even know _why_ it was starting to get weird, wasn’t like this was the first time he’d cuddled with a stranger. He was a Werewolf, close contact was a thing they did. Sure, it’d been a while because of Kate, but still! 

“Yeah, my uh—my friends can’t turn into full blown wolves,” he confirmed. “My one friend can turn into a giant lizard-thing though.” 

“Huh.” Derek didn’t know what else to say to that, so that would have to do. “Well, sorry I scared you. I was just trying to get your attention so I could lead you back to my place, but when it was clear you were freaking out, I ran home, changed, and went back out to find you.” 

“Thank you,” he said again, very quietly. “I was actually starting to get really worried I was going to freeze to death. My phone was almost dead.”

“Where were you trying to go, anyway?” 

“The uh, store.” He let out another soft laugh, cheek pressed against Derek’s shoulder. “The girl at the store, Heather, she showed me a shortcut between the resort and the village. It was late, and I was lazy and underdressed, so I figured the shortcut would be the better option. I definitely took a wrong turn somewhere.” 

Derek scowled at those words, annoyed. He’d told Heather _multiple times_ to stop telling guests about the shortcut specifically so that shit like this didn’t happen. She just got bored and whenever someone made friendly with her, she tried to give them an incentive to visit the store more often. Well, when he saw her on Saturday for his usual groceries run, he was going to tell her the cute guy she’d met almost fucking _froze_ to death trying to use her shortcut! 

Not that he was cute. 

... Okay, a little cute. 

“Why were you going to the store at this hour? Also, it closes at nine.” 

The guy let out an annoyed grunt. “Of course it does. Figures.” He sighed, breath fanning out over Derek’s chest again. “My friends wanted cake. I bought pie this afternoon, but it was for _me_. And they wanted cake or they’d eat my pie so I offered to go and get it.” 

Derek frowned, because he could tell that was the truth, but it sounded like there was more to the story than just that. “And you thought walking through the forest wearing basically nothing was a good idea to get cake?” 

Before the guy could answer, both of them heard faint buzzing in the silence of his living room. The loudest item was his fridge, and it wasn’t anywhere close to being loud enough to cover up the sound of the obvious phone vibrating on the chair almost across from them. 

The guy whined, clearly not wanting to move, but Derek recognized he had to or else his friends would call the front desk and they’d call his mom and it’d be a huge thing about a guest being missing when he wasn’t missing at all. 

Stupid, maybe, but not missing. 

Derek shifted to let the guy up, and he pulled one of the two blankets off the couch while doing so, wrapping it around himself and shuffling to his clothes. He looked like he was favouring his left leg a little bit, but it might just have been the way he was moving. He pulled his phone from his pocket, winced—Derek assumed at the battery life—and then answered. 

“Hey, my phone is basically dead, but I’m okay.” 

_“You’ve been gone for over an hour, where the hell are you?”_

“Yeah, I kind of—got lost.”

_“Got lo—Stiles, it’s a **straight line**! How the hell did you get **lost** walking down the road?”_

Stiles. Apparently this guy’s name was Stiles. Weird name, but sure, okay. 

“I tried to take a shortcut.” Stiles sighed and rubbed at his forehead with two fingers of his other hand, the blankets bunched in his half-closed fist to keep it up and around his shoulders. “It’s a long story and my battery is dying. You guys can go ahead and get to bed, I’ll be back when I can.” 

_“You’re safe though? Where are you?”_

“Front desk Werewolf’s place. I mean, I think it’s his place?” he glanced at Derek, who gave him an unimpressed look. “Yeah, his place. He found me wandering around in the woods and brought me back here.” 

_“Are you sure that’s safe?”_

“You know he can hear you, right?” Stiles sighed. “It’s fine, Scott. Derek just helped me out, I’ll get back when I can.” 

Derek’s eyebrows shot up, because he did _not_ remember introducing himself to him, so how the actual _fuck_ did he know his name? That—was concerning, actually. And now he was starting to feel a little defensive and thinking maybe this had been a ploy of some kind. After all, it was clear he knew Kate, so what if this was some weird roundabout way of getting Derek to trust him when he was working _with_ Kate?! 

_“Okay. I’ll wait up for you.”_

“Nah man, it’s cool. Just go to sleep and I’ll let you know when I’m back.”

_“Okay, if yo—”_

“Scotty?” Stiles frowned, then pulled the phone away from his ear and sighed. Evidently his phone was now dead and he snorted before tossing it onto the chair again. “Well, at least this wasn’t like a bad movie where it died at the worst possible moment.” He turned back to Derek then, and it was clear he was sporting a concerning expression, because Stiles froze. He took one slow step back, eying him warily. “What’s up?” he asked slowly. 

Derek realized his eyes were burning, which suggested he’d started to shift unconsciously. His gums itched and his nail-beds ached, meaning his fangs and claws had come out, but he didn’t take his eyes off Stiles. 

“How do you know my name?” he demanded. 

Stiles blinked at him, then gave him his own unimpressed look. “Are you serious? You wear a name tag, dude.” 

Derek stared at him for a moment longer. He wasn’t lying. He knew that for a fact—both because he _did_ wear a name tag, and because his body hadn’t reacted negatively. Still, it was strange... 

“How do you know Kate Argent?” 

“Do you remember the girl who was at the front with us when we checked in?” 

Derek shook his head, because he didn’t. He’d been a little too focussed on the fucking _Werewolf_ in front of him to notice. The Alpha, no less. The guy—Scott, apparently—couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, if that, and he was an Alpha. The two humans with him hadn’t really been a priority for him at the time. 

“Okay, well, the girl with us is Kate Argent’s niece, but they don’t associate.” Stiles threw one hand out, the other still holding the blanket around his shoulders. “Shit went down a few years back, and Kate tried to infect Scott with wolfsbane so he’d attack Ally and have her parents retaliate by putting Scott down. It was like, a huge thing and Kate basically got booted from the family. Ally’s actually upset she’s here because she’s worried about bumping into her, and probably worried that she’s here to try something with Scott again. It’s—kind of a tense situation right now.” 

Everything was the truth. Every word out of his mouth was the truth, which meant the fact that she was here and that Stiles knew her was a coincidence. And Kate herself had said he looked familiar, but hadn’t been able to place him, so clearly she recognized him enough to have seen him before, but it had been a long time since then which proved—to a degree, at least—that she hadn’t seen Stiles in a very long time. 

Nodding slowly, Derek felt his features slowly return to human, and Stiles relaxed slightly, like he’d been worried he was about to be attacked. Derek wouldn’t have attacked him, he’d just have sent him back out with a flashlight and a map. 

“She comes four times a year,” Derek said after a bout of silence. When Stiles frowned, he clarified. “Kate. She—we have history. She comes four times a year.” 

“Oh.” Stiles winced. “Sorry. So I uh, guess you knew about her before I even warned you.” Derek nodded and Stiles nodded back. “I wasn’t sure, so I figured it was safer, since I know you’re a Werewolf. She’s a grade A bitch and I didn’t know if you were aware of that.” 

“I’m aware,” Derek said darkly and Stiles nodded again. 

He moved forward a bit, shuffling back towards the couch and still seeming to favour his left leg, but he didn’t sit back down. He instead let one arm slip between the folds of the blanket and held it out to Derek with a huge grin on his face. 

“Might as well do this properly, then. I’m Stiles.” 

Snorting, Derek reached out to shake his hand, feeling a bit like an idiot doing so. “Derek.”

“Nice to meet you, Derek. Thanks for saving me from death by cake-loving-Werewolves.” 

Derek just snorted again, and took his time letting Stiles’ hand go. He didn’t know why, but something about him felt... comfortable. Derek didn’t usually like having people in his immediate space, and while he acknowledged he’d have saved whatever moron was wandering out in the woods, he’d definitely have made him get dressed to drive him back to the resort by now if this were anyone else. But—he didn’t know, he wasn’t in a hurry with Stiles. 

And he seriously couldn’t get over how good he smelled. It was actually making him a little confused, because people didn’t usually smell like this. Sweat and dirt and various colognes or body sprays, sure. But this guy didn’t smell anything like that. Sure, there was an undercurrent of sweat and fear and some pain—why was there pain?!—but the stronger scents were the forest, apples and cinnamon, and fresh bread. It was almost overpowering, and kind of intoxicating. 

“So,” Stiles said once he finally pulled his hand back, Derek letting it go, “I have been enough of an imposition for one night. Thanks again for saving me, but uh—can I trouble you for a ride back to the resort?” He winced, like he felt guilty even asking. 

Derek eyed him critically, trying to ascertain how he was doing. He seemed to be okay, for the most part, but maybe it would be a good idea to just—have him stick around. Derek could drive him back in the morning, he’d take the snowmobile instead of jogging to work. It would be better that way, Stiles probably wasn’t warm enough to venture out again right now. 

Of course, he was only thinking of Stiles. This had nothing to do with wanting to keep that scent around for a while longer. 

“It might be better for you to stay the night,” Derek said, and then sighed explosively like it was a huge inconvenience—it wasn’t—while raking one hand through his hair, as if he were annoyed—he wasn’t. 

Stiles’ eyebrows rose slowly, like he was as surprised to hear Derek say those words as he was to have legitimately been offered a safe place to stay for the night. “Are you sure?” he asked uncertainly. “I know that... Werewolves are usually really, you know.” He motioned the room briefly with one hand, the other still holding the blanket up around his shoulders. “This is your space. You don’t usually like people in your space.” 

“I don’t trust you not to die on the way back,” Derek said dryly. “Spend the night, and I’ll bring you back in the morning when I head to work.” He grunted, realizing he had _work_ and it was probably past midnight by now. Well, if he didn’t jog there tomorrow, it meant he could sleep in a bit. He could just shower here before they headed out, and grab some cereal instead of his usual at work. As long as he arrived for seven, that was all that mattered. 

“Okay,” Stiles said, still sounding uncertain. “If you’re sure. I’m serious man, it’s cool if you want me to head out.” 

“I don’t want you to die, it’d be bad for business,” Derek insisted, standing up and letting the blanket fall from his shoulders. He stretched a little, since he hadn’t actually shifted back to human and let his body get familiarized with the form like he normally did. He’d kind of been in a bit of a panic at the time, and now his bones were angry with him. 

“Fair enough,” Stiles said with a shrug. “Thanks. So, couch then?” 

Derek hesitated, turning to glance at it. Normally he’d say yes, but honestly, he still wasn’t entirely confident Stiles would be okay. His cabin was cold, he knew that for a fact since that was why it hadn’t ever been rented out, and if Stiles slept on the couch even with multiple blankets, he probably wouldn’t be warm enough. 

“I have a queen, we can share.” He gave Stiles a look when the other man spluttered like an idiot. “You’re sharing with your friends now, aren’t you? Don’t make a big deal of it, you should know how Werewolves are. We’re pack animals, sharing with you isn’t a hardship.”

“I—okay.” Derek noticed Stiles’ gaze drop down briefly before shooting back up, like he’d been taking him in. They weren’t going to get physical, so Derek didn’t know why he was bothering to act like they were about to fuck like animals, but at least he hadn’t been lying when he’d tried the horrible pick-up line at check-in. 

Apparently Stiles was into men. Good to know. 

“I’ll find you some clothes to sleep in,” Derek told him, motioning down the corridor. “Bathroom’s there if you wanted to get yourself organized.” 

“Thanks.” Stiles moved to the couch to drop the blanket down on it. 

Derek grunted in response and went to his room to find something for Stiles to wear. He heard the human shifting around, and frowned when he noticed the distinct difference in weight distribution as he made his way to the bathroom. Something to ask him about in a minute, since Stiles had disappeared behind the closed door and Derek was still digging through his drawer. 

He found a pair of sweats he hadn’t worn in a while and a loose, long-sleeved shirt. Hopefully that, plus having Derek in the bed with him, would keep him warm enough to survive the night. 

Derek went to wait in the corridor for Stiles to emerge, and once he did, he held the clothes out to him and motioned for him to change in the bedroom so he could use the bathroom. Stiles nodded a thanks, shuffling past him, and Derek noticed that he really _was_ favouring his left side. 

“What happened?” he asked. 

“Huh?” Stiles asked, turning back to him, but Derek’s eyes were on Stiles’ left leg. “Oh. I, uh, tore my ACL a while back. I’m supposed to take it easy but I... kind of panicked when I saw you earlier. I ran for it, and I guess my leg didn’t appreciate that.” He shrugged it off. “It’s only a slight twinge, I’m just trying to keep my weight off it so I don’t exacerbate the problem.” 

Shit, so it was his fault. It also explained why Stiles had spent the whole day sitting in the lobby. Derek hadn’t necessarily been paying attention to him, but he’d noticed him hanging out for a majority of his shift, and it was weird he’d be sitting out instead of doing something with his friends. This explained why. 

Without really thinking on it, Derek bent down, slowly and carefully wrapping his hand just above Stiles’ knee, being sure not to squeeze. He pulled at some of his pain, Stiles letting out a harsh exhale, like the action of pulling at it had stung for a brief moment. Derek felt the ache going up his arm, watching the tendrils of pain leave Stiles and enter him, then pulled his hand back. 

“Thanks,” Stiles said again, quietly. “You don’t have to be so nice to me, you know. I’m kind of an inconvenience, it’s okay to be annoyed.” 

“It’s fine,” Derek said, straightening. “I don’t meet many humans who know what I am. This entire encounter has been a little weird for me overall.” 

“Fair.” Stiles smiled a little, then turned to head into the room. 

Derek turned back to the bathroom and shut himself inside. Bracing both hands on the counter, he exhaled slowly and then looked up at himself in the mirror. He didn’t know what was going on right now, but something about Stiles was really affecting him. Not in a bad way, just—in a confusing way. 

Stiles hadn’t been wrong when he’d mentioned Werewolves didn’t like it when people were in their immediate space, and Derek especially _hated_ it. But somehow it felt... okay. Having Stiles there. Letting him stay, lending him clothes, offering him half of his bed. It was weird and confusing. Not unpleasant, just different. 

Shaking the feeling off, Derek grabbed his toothbrush and may have been a bit more aggressive than usual brushing his teeth. He relieved himself, washed his hands, made sure everything was set for the morning, then headed back out of the bathroom. 

His bedroom door was open with the light on, and Stiles was hovering awkwardly beside the large bed. Derek paused at the sight of him, something in his chest feeling extremely _warm_ when he found him standing there wearing his clothes. They just... they looked really good on him. Derek liked seeing his clothes on him, even something as simple as just sweats and a long-sleeved shirt. 

He said nothing, and Stiles seemed to notice him then, motioning both sides of the bed.

“I didn’t know which side you preferred.” 

“I usually sleep in the middle, but you can take the far side.” Derek’s phone was on the nightstand closest to the door, so it was better for him to be on that side. Besides, he didn’t feel comfortable having Stiles closer to the door. He had no idea why, but probably just in case someone attacked. Derek was better suited to protect him if Stiles was at his back.

Not that anyone was going to attack. Or that Derek would _have_ to protect him. 

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” Derek muttered to himself incredulously, turning away from the room and heading to his living room. He didn’t bother cleaning up the small mess from the blankets and clothes, though he _did_ grab one of them to bring back to the room for Stiles, just as an extra layer. Then he turned off the lights, followed by the kitchen ones, and then the hall one. Making sure his front door was locked _three_ times—he usually forgot to check, so why he checked multiple times today, he didn’t dwell on—and then went back to his bedroom. 

Stiles had slid under the covers on the far side, and Derek closed his bedroom door, waiting for him to settle. Once he was good, Derek shut off the light and moved over to the bed, spreading the extra blanket out over it, and then folding it over so that it was entirely on Stiles’ side of the bed. Then he picked up his phone so he could reset his alarm for an hour later. He grunted unhappily when he saw it was quarter-after midnight, but at least he’d get to sleep until six tomorrow instead of a little after five. 

Once his alarm was set, he slid under the covers and got settled on his back, exhaling once and closing his eyes. The second he inhaled, he just got assaulted with Stiles’ scent, and he wasn’t sure if that would help or hinder his attempts at falling asleep. 

“I uh... I’m kind of a violent sleeper,” Stiles said awkwardly from beside him. “Seriously, if I move around too much for you, just—wake me up and I’ll take the couch.” 

“It’s fine,” Derek said again. “My place gets cold. If the blanket’s not enough, don’t lie there and freeze all night, just shift over and steal some body heat.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Another pause. “Seriously, thanks. You’re—I’m sorry I threw your night off-kilter, but I appreciate you not letting me just freeze to death.” 

“Like I said, bad for business.” 

Stiles let out a small puff of a laugh, and though he didn’t feel it, Derek remembered how it had felt out in the living room with Stiles’ breath against his skin. 

“Right. Well, thanks. And good night.” 

“Night.” 

Derek closed his eyes, settling more comfortably. He honestly hadn’t been sure if the scent would help or hinder, but it was very clear it was _help_ —that, or he was _really_ tired—because he fell asleep almost instantly, which was a first for him. And was _especially_ weird when considering he had a stranger in his bed with him. 

He woke up once in the night, but only because Stiles had shifted closer in his sleep. Not violently, like he’d suggested he would. More just... an attempt to find warmth. Derek stared down at him sleepily, then wrapped one arm around his shoulders and pulled him in closer so that Stiles was half on top of him, drooling on his chest. He didn’t worry about it and just closed his eyes again, falling asleep almost immediately once more. 

When his alarm went off, it felt entirely too early. He tensed at the sound, arm tightening instinctively around the body half on top of him, and Stiles let out a loud snort and jerked up slightly. 

“What’s happening?” he demanded sleepily, rubbing at his face with one hand and smearing drool across his own cheek. 

“Alarm,” Derek grunted miserable, feeling like it should be obvious, but Stiles was evidently still out of sorts. He’d had a weird night, so it made sense. 

Stiles let out a half-grunt, half-hum of understanding and let his head fall back down on Derek’s chest. He seemed ready to go back to sleep, even as the alarm continued to sound. It took him about five seconds to move again, Derek feeling his eyes open from his eyelashes moving against the skin of his bare chest, and then Stiles slowly shifted off him. Derek let his arm fall to allow the retreat. 

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Guess I got cold.” 

“It’s fine,” Derek grunted, already having spoken more words than he normally did this early in the morning. He inhaled deeply, rubbing his face with both hands, then exhaled and sat up. Turning, he shut off his alarm, then sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He felt tired, but not as exhausted as he’d expected given the weird night and sharing his bed with someone he didn’t know. 

Actually, he felt pretty good, all things considered. Still tired, but definitely better than he’d been expecting. 

“You can keep sleeping, I’m going to shower,” he informed Stiles, getting to his feet. 

His companion just hum-grunted again and Derek heard him shifting around in the bed, clearly trying to get comfortable. Derek just went to hunt down some clothes, since a majority of his good work clothes were at his parents’ place or the resort. 

He found a blue Henley and some slacks and brought them to the bathroom along with a fresh pair of shorts and some socks. He could tuck the pants into his boots while heading to work and hopefully they would survive the snow.

When he went back to the room to shut his door to keep the heat in for Stiles, he paused for a moment, remembering his state of dress the night before. He figured he might as well hunt down a spare sweater or something for him, so he went back to his drawer and pulled out one of his black turtlenecks. He hated turtlenecks, they were suffocating, but he’d found a brand that had really comfortable material and he didn’t mind them so much so he’d bought a few. 

Rubbing at the sleeve for a few seconds, he pulled it out and then exited the room, shutting his door. He went to leave the turtleneck on top of Stiles’ discarded clothes from the night before, then headed to the bathroom for his shower. Brushing his teeth and relieving himself, he stripped quickly and got under the spray, feeling a bit more awake than usual. He attributed that to having had an extra hour of sleep this morning, despite the fact that he’d lost more than two the night before. 

He was still washing his hair when he heard the bedroom door open and he paused, tilting his head and listening for what Stiles was doing. He wanted to make sure he didn’t try and leave the cabin, he’d never make it back to the resort on his own. 

It sounded like he was just shuffling to the living room though, so Derek kept one ear out for where he was in his house, and kept getting ready for his day. He eventually heard Stiles opening and closing his pantry and fridge, and would’ve been annoyed about it, except somehow it wasn’t _as_ annoying as he felt it should be. Still, he didn’t really like that Stiles was helping himself to his food. 

When he was done and dried off, Derek changed into his clothes for the day, pulling his socks on last before heading out of the bathroom and dropping his boxer-briefs from the night before into his hamper. He cleaned up his room a bit, since Stiles being up meant he didn’t have to worry about waking him, and then shoved his phone and wallet into his pockets, heading for the kitchen. 

When he reached it, he paused at the sight that greeted him. For one thing, Stiles was standing at his stove, back to him and wearing the turtleneck he’d left out for him. Derek was once against struck by how _right_ it felt, seeing Stiles in his clothes. How much he liked it, and how fucking _weird_ that was. There was just something really satisfying about having Stiles in his clothes, and he couldn’t place _why_ , he just knew that he liked it. 

For another thing—Stiles looked like he was making breakfast. And not just for himself, like, he was _making breakfast_. For the two of them. And that was... really nice, actually. Derek had never realized how nice it would be to wake up and take a shower and come out to someone making breakfast. Sure, that was basically what happened at work all the time, but this felt very, _very_ different. It felt more domestic, more personal. 

He liked it. He kind of hated that he liked it, but he really, _really_ liked it. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, trying to get his messed up thoughts under control. 

Stiles turned to him, offering a smile. He looked tired, but his eyes were bright and he definitely had more colour than the night before, so that was good. 

“Making you breakfast as a thank you. I threw off your evening, and your morning, so it was the least I could do. Though you are woefully low on ingredients, for the record.” 

“I usually eat at the resort,” he admitted, moving over to the stove and standing beside Stiles to see what he was cooking. “Are those pancakes?” 

“Yup.” Stiles said, a plate by his elbow already stacked with two of them. 

“How the hell did you manage to make pancakes? I don’t have any eggs.” 

“Like I said, you are _woefully_ low on ingredients.” He nodded his head towards the pantry. “You had applesauce, so I used that instead of eggs. You had just enough flour to make pancakes, and everything else is basically a staple in everyone’s household. I struggled to find the baking powder, but apparently you keep yours in the fridge?” He turned to cock an eyebrow at Derek. “Who keeps baking powder in the fridge?” 

“Me,” Derek informed him easily, then moved to open said appliance, looking into it and frowning. “I don’t have any syrup.” 

“I noticed that, but you have jam. I know it’s not the same thing, but it should still be pretty good.” 

Derek grunted, because he wasn’t wrong, so he pulled out both his raspberry and his strawberry jams, putting both on the counter behind him. Then he went about grabbing some plates and cutlery, keeping an eye on the time. Still doing well, so he didn’t worry about it. 

“Want coffee?” he asked, moving to his Nespresso machine and picking out two of the brown capsules from his stock. He needed the extra coffee today, and he shoved a cup under the spigot before popping one capsule in and starting the machine. 

“Sure, thanks.” Stiles flipped a pancake onto the plate beside him, bringing the total to three. 

Derek only had the one kind of coffee, so he finished making the first cup, then held it out to Stiles, who took it with a nod of thanks and sipped at it while babysitting the fourth pancake in the pan. 

Putting another mug in place, Derek popped another capsule in and waited while it brewed, turning to watch Stiles. He was looking down at what he was doing, poking lightly at the edges of the pancake with the spatula, coffee in his other hand up by his face, like the mere smell of it was helping wake him up. 

Derek liked the view. He was concerned with how much he liked the view. 

He turned back to the machine when it finished, finding that to be safer. He popped the second capsule in, and watched it do its thing, avoiding turning to look at Stiles again. 

“You usually just make yourself at home in other people’s kitchens?” Derek asked in an attempt to get himself back under control. 

“I’ve been known to suck at respecting people’s space,” Stiles admitted, hint of a smile in his voice. “I wasn’t going to here because, again, Werewolf and all. But then I thought that I owed you, and I figured making breakfast would be a good thank you. I’ll clean up before I go, promise.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Derek took his coffee and sipped at it, turning back to lean against the counter, watching Stiles. When he realized what he was doing, he moved forward to grab the plate of pancakes just as Stiles dropped the fourth one on it. 

He set his coffee down and divvyed up their breakfast two per plate, then handed the empty one back so Stiles would have it for the fifth pancake. 

“You want strawberry or raspberry on yours?” he asked, opening the strawberry for himself. 

“Oh, I—these were for you. I wasn’t going to have any.” Derek turned to Stiles arching an eyebrow. Stiles had half-turned as well, offering a shrug. “I know how much Werewolves eat, and I wasn’t going to help myself to your food. That’s rude.” 

Derek snorted, but shook his head and turned back to the pancakes. “You want strawberry or raspberry?” 

Stiles sighed, like Derek was being difficult. “You’re gonna force me to eat something, aren’t you?” When Derek said nothing, spreading strawberry on the top pancake of his plate, Stiles sighed explosively again and said, “Raspberry.” 

Derek opened the second jar, spreading jam on Stiles’ top pancake, then dropped a fork on it and turned to hand it over. Stiles nodded a thanks, setting the spatula down on the counter, and took the plate so he could eat, still keeping an eye on the pancake in the pan. 

When Derek took his first bite, he was actually pleasantly surprised by how good it tasted. There was the _barest_ hint of apple in the batter, but a part of him honestly wondered if it might just be his brain insisting he could taste it because he knew there was applesauce in it. Either way, the pancakes were _really_ good. And the jam wasn’t bad, if he was honest. 

He put raspberry on his second one, grabbing Stiles’ plate to do the same to the one he had left. The batter was almost done by now, Stiles having dropped another one on the plate at his elbow, with a sixth in the pan and just enough batter left for a small seventh. 

They ate in silence, Stiles still cooking and Derek spreading jam as needed and handing the plate back and forth to Stiles. It was a nice, comfortable breakfast, and Derek actually enjoyed it. It was nice, sipping his coffee, waking up slowly with someone else. A peaceful morning. 

He’d expected something more hectic, considering the break in his routine, so he was pleasantly surprised. 

Stiles ate two and a half pancakes, Derek devouring the rest. He was still eating breakfast as Stiles cleaned up, washing the pan and bowl he’d used, as well as all the other items that wouldn’t fit in Derek’s small dishwasher. By the time he was done, Derek had finished his pancakes and his coffee. 

“Thanks,” he said honestly, putting his items in the still open dishwasher and then shutting it. 

“That’s my line,” Stiles insisted with a snort. “Thank _you_. And uh, thanks for the shirt, too.” He tugged lightly at the front of it. “I’ll have it washed and returned to you asap.” 

“Don’t worry about it, I can wash it. Just didn’t want you to freeze on your way back.” He checked the time on his phone. “We need to go, I’m due at work soon.” 

“Right, yeah, of course. Can I use the bathroom right quick?” 

Derek motioned for him to do as he pleased and Stiles nodded a thanks, moving quickly around Derek and hurrying to the bathroom. Derek made sure everything was in order while he waited, and when Stiles emerged from the restroom, he reappeared in the living room and patted at his pockets, making sure he had everything. He grabbed his coat and yanked it on, the shirt he’d been wearing the night before half-stuffed into one of the pockets. When he had it all zipped up, he snatched up his hat and shoved it onto his head, then sat down to get his boots on. 

Derek went to the front door to pull on his own boots and hat, then got into his jacket. He caught sight of his gloves on the shelf where his keys were, hesitated, then pulled them off and figured he could lend them to Stiles. He didn’t have any gloves, and Derek’s hands weren’t going to get as cold. 

Snatching up his housekey and the ones for his snowmobile, he turned when he heard Stiles shutting off all the lights, and then opened the front door when he nodded that he was ready to head out. They left the cabin together, the morning air crisp and the world around them silent. Derek locked up, then started to motion around the side of the house before remembering Stiles probably couldn’t see since it was still pitch black out. He touched his elbow lightly and helped lead him around the side of his home to the snowmobile, their footsteps crunching through the snow. 

“Here,” Derek said, pressing the gloves into his hands once they’d reached the snowmobile. “Your hands will get colder than mine.” 

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked, taking them while frowning. “I know you’re a Werewolf, but you’re not immune to the cold.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Derek confirmed. His hands would likely get a little uncomfortably cold, but nothing he couldn’t handle. It was only because they’d be going faster due to the snowmobile. He’d been so panicked the night before he hadn’t even noticed, honestly. 

Climbing onto it, he started it up while Stiles got the gloves on, and then slid into place behind him. He waited for Stiles to wrap his arms around him, wanting to be sure he wouldn’t fall off, and then turned them around to head off towards the resort. 

He could feel Stiles pressing his forehead against his back, likely in an attempt to keep the wind out of his face, and it occurred to Derek that maybe he should’ve lent him a scarf, too. Well, he had a turtleneck, at least, so hopefully that was helping. 

They were both quiet while they made their way to the resort, the engine a bit loud for conversation. He knew he couldn’t drive right up to the resort with the snowmobile, but both his parents should be working today so he could drive to their place and then he and Stiles could walk to the resort together. 

He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and slowed down, debating answering it, but they weren’t far out from his parents’ place by now so he figured once they got there, he’d check it then. 

When they broke through the trees, the large house came into view, a few of the lights already on, and he made his way around the back and stopped the snowmobile beside his dad’s. Turning off the engine, he felt Stiles shift behind him before he climbed off, Derek doing the same and turning to him. 

Stiles was frowning up at the house, confused. “This isn’t the resort.” 

“My parents’ place,” he informed him, hearing his mom moving around inside. She knew he was there, and that he’d brought the snowmobile, which he didn’t usually ever use except for groceries, so he was expecting her to poke her head out to find out what was going on. Not to mention the foreign voice, she was probably going to be _annoying_. 

“Oh.” Stiles cocked an eyebrow at him. “Why did we come here?” 

“Snowmobile’s too loud to cruise up to the resort on,” Derek said, beginning to walk around the house, Stiles following. “It’s not far, less than five minutes.” He motioned the resort when they rounded the corner. It was literally fully visible, so it would take them no time to get there. 

“That makes sense,” Stiles said with a nod, and then froze. Derek turned to him, cocking an eyebrow, but Stiles just stared at him, mouth hanging open. “Wait, your _parents_ live here?” He motioned the house behind them. 

Derek groaned internally when the side door opened, his mother stepping out onto the wrap-around upper deck and looking out at them both. Stiles had his back to her, but Derek was facing her and could see the clear interest and amusement on her face. 

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh, motioning behind Stiles. “Mom, this is Stiles. Stiles, my mom.” 

Stiles flailed when he spun around, still sputtering like an idiot. Derek had no idea _why_ he was sputtering like an idiot until he faced him again and went, “Wait, so you’re a _Hale_? Like, Hale of a Hill Hale? Like, you _own_ the place?” 

“I mean, I don’t own anything but my cabin.” Derek motioned his mother, who still looked thoroughly amused. “She and dad own everything.” 

“For now,” his mother called lightly. “It’s nice to meet you Stiles.”

“Oh my God.” Stiles slapped both gloved hands to his face. “No wonder you kept saying me dying would be bad for business! It’s _your_ business!” 

Derek sighed, a little annoyed now. He was going to be late for work, and he’d been hoping for his parents _not_ to see Stiles. But now his dad had joined his mother on the deck, and time was ticking away. “Not my business,” he reminded him. “I’m going to be late, let’s go.” 

“I’ll let Erica know you’re coming,” Talia called from the house. “Dinner tonight?” 

“No,” Derek called back, knowing she just wanted the scoop on why Derek had driven up to their place at the beginning of his shift with a random human. Dammit, today was going to _suck_. 

“See you at six-thirty!” she called after him as he walked away from her. He ignored her, listening to Stiles stumble after him, staring at him in awe as they walked. 

“Dude, I can’t believe you’re one of the Hales! That’s crazy!” 

“How is that crazy?” Derek asked, sighing in defeat. Well, at least he knew Stiles wasn’t like Kate, because his surprise was genuine and he seemed completely floored by the realization he’d been saved and spent the night and morning with one of the people who owned the resort. 

Not that Derek owned the resort, but he knew eventually he and his sisters would take over when his parents decided to retire. He also knew they were in the will, which was depressing, but he supposed his parents were just trying to be prepared. They had a lot of money _and_ property, after all. It made sense to have a plan in place, just in case. 

And to be fair, Peter owned some of the land too. Not much of it, but he definitely had his own share of the pie that would go to Malia once he passed. Family business, after all. Had to stay in the family. 

“I don’t know, it just _is_ ,” Stiles insisted, but he was grinning now, like this was amazing news. “Hey man, this will be _great_ for business! I’m gonna post all over social media about how the hot son of the Hales saved me from freezing to death and took care of me and everything.” 

“Please don’t,” Derek said, turning to give him a look. “Seriously, don’t. I don’t need more people wandering through the woods hoping I find them.”

Stiles let out a bark of laughter that was a _bit_ too loud for the hour, and Derek gave him an annoyed look. He just grinned, clearly pleased with himself for whatever reason, and the two of them moved around the front of the resort to head through the door. 

Once they were inside the lobby, Erica straightened from her spot behind the front desk, eyes shifting briefly to Stiles before focussing back on Derek. 

“Where the hell have you been? I was getting worried about you. Can you imagine? Me? Worried about an ass like you?” 

“I had a bit of a complicated morning,” Derek said, approaching the front desk while checking the time on his phone. He saw the missed call from earlier, having forgotten about it. It was from Boyd, presumably because it was now five to seven and Derek hadn’t yet gone to get his breakfast. 

He didn’t need it, for once, which would probably have both Boyd _and_ Alex have heart attacks. 

“ _Complicated_ isn’t the term people usually use,” Erica said with a knowing grin, waggling her eyebrows. 

Derek gave her an unimpressed look. “Stiles got lost in the woods last night and almost froze to death.” 

Erica’s grin slid right off her face, shifting her gaze to his companion. “Oh. Sorry.” 

Stiles just shrugged easily, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. Well, one was anyway, the other was kind of resting on top of the shirt he’d stuffed into the right pocket. He glanced at Derek. “Thanks again for everything. I’ll bring your stuff back down once I’ve changed.” 

Derek hated Erica’s interested perk-up at those words, but ignored her and said, “No rush.” 

“Sorry I ruined your evening, and your morning.” 

“You didn’t, it’s fine.” Derek felt like he’d said those words a _lot_ in the past few hours. “Do you think you can manage to get to your room without an escort, or will you get lost again?” 

Stiles laughed sarcastically, flipped him off, thanked him again, then turned to head for the elevator. Derek watched him, as if honestly worried he’d run into some kind of trouble between the lobby and his room, but Stiles disappeared into the lift moments later and the doors closed. 

Without a word, Derek made his way around the counter, ignoring Erica’s intent gaze while he moved to the staff room. He shrugged out of his coat and hat, changed his shoes, and was back out exactly on time for the start of his shift. Erica was still staring at him while he went to his computer and set up his station, pulling his name tag out of the drawer and pinning it to his shirt. 

“You can go now.” 

“Oh, fuck off!” Erica smacked him in the arm, hard. “What the hell was that? I’ve never heard you speak so many words this early in the morning in my entire _life_! You waltz in an _hour_ later than usual with a cute guy, who has your _clothes_ apparently, and then expect me _not_ to have questions? Derek, who _is_ he?” 

“Nobody,” Derek insisted, annoyed. “He got lost in the woods, like I said. It was really late, and I didn’t feel like bringing him back—”

“You didn’t _feel_ like bringing him back?” Erica demanded, cutting him off, but he just bulled on like she hadn’t said anything. 

“—so he just stayed over. He made breakfast while I was in the shower and I brought him back. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” 

Erica moved up into his space, eyebrows almost disappearing into her hairline. That shouldn’t be possible, maybe she should have that checked, Derek was pretty sure that was weird. 

“Don’t make a big _deal_ out of it? Derek, are you _serious_? You let a _human_ stay at your house! You won’t even let _me_ stay at your house!” 

“You wouldn’t freeze to death if I kicked you out,” he said dryly. “Besides, he knows about Werewolves. He’s one of the guys who came with the Alpha.” 

“You are just making this more and more intriguing as you continue telling me things, you realize this, right?” Her eyebrows were fully gone now. That was honestly concerning, were people supposed to be able to disappear their eyebrows, or was that an Erica thing? 

“Just leave it,” he insisted, his earlier good mood already plummeting. “Go away.”

“Oh man, we are _so_ talking about this later.” Erica pulled her phone out, and Derek _knew_ she was going to be texting with Laura. Who would text his mom, who would tell her about Derek showing up that morning. Fuck. 

“Just leave,” he insisted, annoyed. 

Erica cackled, but at least she did as she was told, heading towards the kitchens. She was probably off to tell Boyd and Alex why he was late and honestly, he didn’t have time for this. 

Next time he found a human freezing to death in the woods, he was just going to _leave_ them there. 

**TBC...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone wanting to know more about the Jackbox Games can find details [here](https://www.jackboxgames.com/). It's actually really fun and you can play remotely with people, which has been really great for social distancing get-togethers with friends!


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles inhaled deeply, rolling over and snuggling further into the pillow under his cheek, even as his brain banged pots and pans at him and told him he’d slept for long enough. He knew he had, but he also knew he was going to be _so bored_ today, so it was easier to just sleep the day away. 

When he’d gotten back after his exciting tromp through the woods, Scott had woken up at the sound of the door opening and had come to make sure he was okay. He looked like he hadn’t slept much, likely worried about Stiles, especially since his phone had died mid-sentence and he hadn’t known where he was. 

Apparently he and Jackson had gone out to try and find him—friendship goals right there—but his scent had kind of blown all over the place by then so they couldn’t pinpoint his location. They had a long talk about it when they got back to the room with the others, and while uncomfortable, Scott had admitted that Stiles had sounded okay, and not distressed or threatened, so they’d all called it a night. 

Still, Scott had tossed and turned for a while, worried about his friend, and Stiles felt guilty about it. They both went back to bed, Jackson waking up at the movement and grunting that he was glad Stiles wasn’t dead before promptly falling back to sleep. 

He heard the others get up around probably nine, and while Scott shook him awake for breakfast, Stiles waved him off and mumbled for them to just leave him. He’d eaten with Derek anyway, and he was still tired and likely to have another long, boring day, so he was perfectly fine with being left to sleep. 

Now, his bladder was screaming at him, and his stomach was threatening to eat his spine so he sighed and peeled open his eyes. He fumbled around for his phone on the night stand, having been smart enough to plug it in before going back to sleep, and squinted at the time. It was just after one, so he should _definitely_ get up or he’d have a hard time falling asleep tonight. 

Dropping his phone, he rolled onto his back with a whine, rubbing at his face, then kicked the blankets to the foot of the bed and got up, shuffling to the bathroom. He’d gone to sleep wearing the same clothes he’d arrived back in, and was actually surprised he’d managed it because jeans were _not_ comfortable. 

Relieving himself and washing his hands, he paused when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. This was a nice turtleneck. He wasn’t really one for turtlenecks, he found them a bit restricting, but this one was actually comfortable. 

Realizing he was just standing there staring at himself, he shook his head and then went about getting ready for the day, brushing his teeth, taking a shower, pulling on a fresh set of clothes. He folded the gloves and shirt together, tucking them under his arm after he’d grabbed everything he’d need for the day, and then headed out of the room.

His friends, bless them, had left the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door, so he turned it around for the room to be serviced and then headed for the elevator. 

The lobby was a bit busier today than it had been yesterday, and he debated whether to go back upstairs to eat lunch or try his luck at the restaurant. Or maybe he’d go into town. It hadn’t escaped his notice that the jerks had eaten his pie, so he needed another one. 

Well, not _needed_ , but _wanted_. Besides, he could buy the cake and some cookies or whatever while he was out. And it wasn’t like he had anything else to do! 

He moved slowly through the lobby, the chatter relatively loud at this hour, and glanced over at the front desk since he wanted to return Derek’s things. The Werewolf was looking right at him, like he’d smelled him coming, and Stiles offered him a smile while moving in that direction. No one was at the desk, clearly no check-ins happening right now, so he walked right up to Derek’s side of it and put the turtleneck down on the counter. 

“Thanks again for everything,” he said sincerely. “Gloves are folded inside, didn’t want to lose them.” 

Derek nodded, taking the clothing and putting it somewhere behind the desk. Stiles saw his co-worker—her name tag read ‘Jessica’—giving them an interested look, but she didn’t say anything. 

“How’s your leg?” 

“What? Oh.” Stiles looked down at it, then back up. “Totally fine now, thanks. Like I said, it was just a twinge last night. All good.” He offered another brilliant smile. 

“Good,” Derek said, eying him for a few more seconds. “Did you just wake up?” 

“Yeah.” He laughed awkwardly, remembering that Derek hadn’t had the opportunity to nap like he did. “I uh, kind of went back to sleep when I got upstairs. I still have nothing to do right now, and I only have three books so I’m trying to save them. Figured sleeping the day away was a good idea.” 

“Have you eaten lunch?” 

Stiles blinked, surprised by the question. “Uh, no, I was going to right now.” 

Derek’s eyes shifted to his computer, and Stiles saw them moving across the screen, the sound of his mouse clicking audible from where he stood. “We have a lull for the next little while. I was going to take my lunch break. There’s a good place to eat in the village if you wanted to avoid the business of the restaurant.” 

Stiles’ mouth dropped open, but he was sure it wasn’t nearly as much as Jessica’s. Her eyes practically fell out of her head and she seemed completely confused by what she’d just heard. 

Derek, for his part, just stared at Stiles, waiting for an answer. Had he just... really? 

But _why_?! 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure. That’s—that would be awesome. Um...” Stiles patted at his pockets, knowing he had his wallet and phone, but he hadn’t been planning on leaving the lodge so he wasn’t dressed for it. “Let me just—I’ll run up and grab my jacket?” 

Derek nodded his head towards a door behind him. “I’ll grab my stuff and meet you back here in five minutes.” He looked at his co-worker. “You’re okay if I take my lunch now?” 

“I—sure?” she looked like she had no idea what was going on. 

Stiles could relate, because he _definitely_ had no idea what was going on!

“Okay,” Stiles said, motioning behind himself with both hands. “I’ll... be right back?” 

Derek grunted, doing something on his computer before turning away from him. Stiles glanced at Jessica, who was staring at him like he was an alien. He just shrug-flailed expansively, then turned around to head for the elevators once more. 

His mind was racing while he stood waiting for one, then stepped inside when it arrived along with three other people who were joking and laughing. 

Stiles honestly had no idea what was going on. Sure, he didn’t _mind_ what was happening right now, but he was also very confused. Derek was a Werewolf, and Stiles knew a lot of Werewolves. Sure, Jackson and Scott were his closest friends, but he actually knew _tons_ of Werewolves, and _all_ of them were the same. They didn’t like strangers in their immediate space, because they had issues with foreign scents in their ‘dens’ or whatever. They didn’t like strangers too close to them, they _definitely_ didn’t want them wearing their clothes or sleeping in their beds. 

Again, it was different with Scott and Jackson, they’d all been friends for literal _years_. Stiles was in their pack, so to speak. He may be human, but so were Danny and Allison, and while Allison was different since she was Scott’s girlfriend, he and Danny were still just regular old humans and they were in the pack. Jackson and Scott trusted him, they _knew_ him, he was _theirs_. 

Stiles and Derek had literally met two days ago at check-in. And then Derek was out in the middle of the night chasing him down with his snowmobile to bring him home out of the cold, where he’d cuddled with him to warm him up, and then proceeded to let him borrow clothes, sleep in his bed, invade his kitchen and just... It was weird. 

And now, after that _disaster_ of an evening and early morning, Stiles had just gone to return the clothes he’d been lent and Derek had... kind of asked him out? Not like a date, but to hang out. To have lunch. That was _super_ weird! Not unpleasant, but weird. 

Were born wolves different from bitten ones? Stiles knew there were differences—for one thing, Scott couldn’t turn into a wolf, otherwise Stiles would’ve been playing fetch with him long before now—but he hadn’t thought that their territorialism would be _that_ different. Did Derek generally let random strangers into his home and bed without worrying for his life? 

Stiles had a general disregard for his own life, case and point being wandering through the woods in the dead of night in the middle of winter, so his actions weren’t at all unusual. He took shit care of himself when it came to prioritizing people’s safety, and he knew it. But Derek? 

It was just _weird_ , okay? It was weird. 

Reaching his room, he winced when he found one of the staff in there, trying to bring it back to some semblance of order. He apologized profusely for bothering her, even as she apologized back, but he just quickly grabbed his jacket to pull on over his hoodie, his hat and gloves, and then wished her a good day before ducking out. 

Derek was already dressed and waiting by the time he got back downstairs, and he jerked his head towards the back of the lobby, leading the way to the exit Stiles had taken the night before. 

“You sure you trust me to go into the woods again?” Stiles teased while following him down the steps. They’d been cleared off, presumably due to the heavier traffic during the day, so it was easy walking down them. 

“I trust you a lot more when you have supervision,” Derek informed him, waiting for him at the base of the stairs and then motioning the direction they were heading in. 

“Ah,” Stiles said, pointing. “Right. I uh, went that way.” He motioned the direction he’d gone in the night before and Derek rolled his eyes. “What? It was my first time, cut me some slack.” 

“You almost froze to death, I am cutting you exactly _zero_ slack.” 

“Jerk,” Stiles insisted, shoving him lightly. Derek didn’t even falter in his steps, which made sense. Not only was he a Werewolf, but he was built like a house. “I will know for next time.” 

“You will never do this again without supervision,” Derek argued, turning to raise his eyebrows at him before ducking his head under a low-hanging branch and disappearing into the trees. 

“Hey man, I have an _excellent_ sense of direction, I’ll have you know,” Stiles argued, following after him and almost tripping. 

That earned him a snort and he scowled, trying not to get annoyed about it. Derek slowed ever so slightly though so they could walk side by side, and he noticed he was being appraised, like Derek was making sure he was warm enough. 

Rolling his eyes, he pulled his hands from his pockets, showing him he was wearing gloves. “Do I pass inspection _dad_?” 

Derek scowled, obviously not liking being referred to in that manner, and faced forward again. “You don’t seem to take good care of yourself. I’m just making sure we don’t get sued.” 

“Trust me, my dad wouldn’t sue you. He is well aware of the walking disaster he has for a son.” Stiles had to slow down a bit when the incline got a little steeper, since he didn’t want to slide all the way down on his ass. Derek had done the same, though he seemed more practised at this so he didn’t look quite as concerned. 

“How’d you tear your ACL, anyway?” Derek asked. 

“Hilariously, by jumping a flight of stairs. I was trying to rush to get to my next class, and I jumped the steps and landed wrong. Did _not_ know blacking out from pain was a real thing until I woke up with a crowd of people around me freaking out thinking I’d broken my neck.” 

Derek let out a small, annoyed huff that sounded _suspiciously_ like the word, “Idiot.” He didn’t need to be getting sass from a grumpy Werewolf, but he didn’t call him on it, either. To be fair, Stiles acknowledged it was a dumb thing to do. He could’ve jumped three or four steps to get down them faster, but no. He’d gone for the full flight of stairs. His own fault, really. 

Still annoying though. 

“So you can’t ski, then,” Derek concluded. 

“I snowboard usually, but yeah, can’t do that either.”

“We have other activities,” Derek offered, reaching the bottom of the incline first and waiting for Stiles to join him before continuing to walk. Stiles could see the village through the trees, so he’d _definitely_ been way off course last night. “You should do some of them.” 

“I booked two things for the trip, one this week and one next week,” Stiles said, the two of them shifting to single file when the trees got a bit closer together. “I have a fly-over booked for Thursday, and I have snowmobiling next Wednesday. But it’s expensive, you know? I’m still in school and dad’s not exactly rich. This trip was expensive enough, so I kind of just got the two things and figured I’d find other stuff to do in between.” 

Derek hummed, footsteps crunching in the snow as they made it to the back of the grocery store, moving around it to the main road and walking side by side as Derek led them wherever they were going. 

“What plans did you have to stay entertained?” Derek asked curiously.

“I brought my PSP, but I forgot that I suck at the games on it. I have some books, but I figure I’ll read them really fast with nothing else to do so I’m trying to save them since there isn’t a place to buy any around here.” 

Derek was silent for a moment while they walked, motioning for Stiles to cross when they were halfway down the small strip. “I have some books,” he finally said. “If you wanted to borrow some.” 

Stiles turned to him, eyebrows shooting up. “What, for real? Seriously?” 

“Not like I don’t know where to find you,” Derek insisted dryly, giving him a look. “And if you have an event next Wednesday, it means you’re here for a while.” 

“Fifteen days,” Stiles confirmed and Derek nodded back. 

“I can bring you back to mine after work if you want. You can check out what I have and you’re welcome to borrow anything that you find interesting.” 

“Seriously?” Stiles asked again, Derek stopping beside a door and then pulling it open. 

“Yes, Stiles,” he said, sighing in exasperation. “Seriously.” He motioned for him to enter first and Stiles grinned, walking into the restaurant. 

It wasn’t so much a restaurant as it was a kind of café. Well, like a café-restaurant hybrid? It looked like a cute little place, and it wasn’t very busy, probably because most people were eating up at the resort. 

“Hey Derek,” the girl behind the counter said, eying Stiles briefly before focussing back on him. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” 

“I was here on Friday,” he insisted, moving to an empty table while shrugging out of his coat. Stiles followed him, doing the same since the little place was relatively warm. 

“Yeah, and it’s now Tuesday. Usually you come on Sundays, whether you’re working or not.” 

“I was busy,” Derek said. “You gonna do your job, or bitch at me for not keeping you in business?” 

The girl held up both hands in surrender, gave Stiles a kind of ‘good luck!’ look, then turned back to the till to wait for them to decide what they wanted. 

Stiles was standing behind his chair, putting his coat along the chairback, eyes on the board behind the counter. They had a lot of sandwiches, and he could see both banana bread _and_ brownies in their display case, so he was kind of excited. This place looked nice, and the prices were really good considering this was a tourist area. 

“See anything you like?” Derek asked, leaning forward in his seat, watching him. 

Stiles’ eyes dipped down to him, then back to the board, nodding. “Yeah, this place is great.” 

“Go ahead and order whatever you want,” he said, motioning the till. “Hayden, just add it to my tab,” he called a bit louder, likely for the girl working to hear him. 

“What?” Stiles looked back at him, startled. “No. Dude, you’re not paying for me.” 

“I invited you out, isn’t that generally what happens?” Derek asked, a smirk teasing the corners of his lips. “Besides, you’re trying to save money and it’s not like I’m hurting for it. It’s fine.” 

“Seriously, you don’t have to.” 

“And I am _seriously_ getting annoyed with you using the word ‘seriously,’” Derek replied with a smile that was all teeth and not at all friendly. “Just order your damn food.” 

“You’re so bossy.” Stiles rolled his eyes, but he wasn’t going to push it. Derek was clearly sleep-deprived and trying to do something nice for him, he wasn’t going to be rude about it. 

Eying the menu board again, he moved over to the till where this Hayden girl was and she offered him a small smile. 

“Surviving?” 

“Somehow,” he said with a small laugh. “Is he always like this with people he invites out for lunch?” 

“Wouldn’t know, he’s never invited anyone out for lunch before,” she said, eying him with interest. 

“Oh.” Well that explained the girl from this morning’s comments, Jessica’s surprise, and Hayden’s interest. Apparently Stiles was an anomaly. “Uh, can I get the, uh, tuna melt? With extra cheese?” 

“Sure, you want the combo?” she motioned it on the board and Stiles nodded. It was only three dollars more, and came with a drink, dessert and bag of baked chips. 

She got his bread and condiments order down, then handed over the most adorable little mini banana bread loaf, along with a hot chocolate and some plain chips. He shoved the wrapped banana bread loaf into the pocket of his hoodie, and carried his hot chocolate and chips back to the table as Hayden called out to Derek, asking if he was having his usual, which he confirmed back. 

Stiles sat down across from Derek, sipping at his hot chocolate and licking his lips. “Thanks for lunch, but you seri—” he cut himself off at Derek’s raised eyebrows and redirected. “You didn’t have to. If anything, I owe _you_ lunch for how accommodating you were last night.”

“It’s fine,” Derek said, for like, the millionth time. Stiles wondered if that was the only thing he knew how to say. 

“Still, thanks. And again, thanks for last night. I’m sorry for being a pain.” 

“You made me breakfast, so it balanced out.” Derek shrugged, arms still crossed over his chest. He looked really good in blue. Actually, he looked good in everything. And in nothing. Stiles _may_ have gotten a little excited at the sight of him last night, because Derek was an insanely gorgeous specimen, and he’d been lucky enough to see a _lot_ of him. 

“You know, since we’re here, you should buy eggs,” Stiles informed him, sipping at his drink and licking his lips again. He noticed Derek’s eyes following the action, but didn’t dwell on it too much. He wasn’t _that_ delusional, much as he’d love for Derek to be interested. “And like... groceries in general. Seriously—” Whoops, hadn’t meant to use that word, “—you have like, nothing in your fridge and pantry.” 

“I eat out most of the time,” Derek said, repeating his comments from that morning. “I work at the resort five days a week, and usually wake up earlier than I did this morning. I jog to the resort, shower, eat breakfast and then start work. For lunch, I either go to my parents’ place, the kitchen, or come here. For dinner, I go to my parents’ more often than not, or if I go home, I just eat something easy to make. I don’t have the energy to make anything by the end of the day.” 

“I love cooking,” Stiles said, noting Hayden had put a cup, a large cookie and a bag of chips on the counter. Derek made no move to get it, though it was clearly for him. “I find it relaxing.”

“Explains why you commandeered my kitchen,” Derek said dryly, but he had the beginnings of a smile on his lips, so Stiles didn’t think he was _too_ upset about it. He hadn’t _seemed_ upset that morning, anyway.

“I just wanted to thank you by making you breakfast, is all.” Stiles glanced at the drink again, then put his own down and got up. Derek frowned, like he didn’t understand where he was going, but Stiles just went to get the cookie, chips and what looked like a latte, and brought them all back to the table, setting them down in front of Derek before taking his seat once more. 

“Hayden would’ve brought them over eventually.” 

“Maybe, but this way we can both enjoy our drinks together instead of me downing mine while you’re just sitting there staring longingly at my hot chocolate.” He smirked, picking his mug up and taking a sip. “You could’ve ordered one too, you know.” 

Derek snorted. “Sure. It’s the hot chocolate I’m staring at.” 

Stiles opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. He put his mug down, eying Derek briefly, then said, “You are very forward, sir.” 

“Not usually,” Derek admitted, eyes moving slowly along Stiles’ face, as if he were inspecting every inch of it. “Something about you is just... I don’t know. I guess I invited you to lunch in an attempt to figure out what that is.” 

“Oh.” Stiles opened his bag of chips, figuring he didn’t have anything to say to that, and popped one into his mouth. He let out a small exclamation of pleasure, turning the bag around to check the label. “These are good!” 

“Yeah, Hayden’s family knows a local company that makes them. They’re not really widely distributed, so this area is pretty much the only place you can get them.”

“I will have to stock up before I go,” Stiles said, then squinted slightly. “Not sure how well chips will hold up in my luggage though.” 

“I’d guess not well,” Derek said honestly. 

Stiles shrugged and shoved another chip into his mouth, chewing happily. He didn’t really know what to talk to Derek about, since Werewolf stuff was kind of off the table while in public, so he mostly just started babbling about himself. Nothing of importance really, he just didn’t want them to sit in uncomfortable silence while Derek tried to figure out what was going on in his head.

So he talked about school, about being in his final year, about his major and his job aspirations. Or lack thereof, really. Stiles didn’t know what he wanted to do with his degree, he just knew it was virtually impossible to get a job in this day and age without one. 

Derek didn’t really ask questions, but he seemed content to listen. Even when Hayden came to drop off their sandwiches—Derek had some kind of roast beef thing that was like, fifteen inches high—he didn’t take his eyes off Stiles, just listening to him talk. It was actually kind of nice, having someone interested in what he had to say.

And Stiles _knew_ he was listening and not just tuning him out, because when he paused to take bites of his sandwich, Derek would ask the occasional question about something Stiles had just been talking about, so he was legitimately listening. 

When they were done with their food, Stiles asked if Derek had time left since he’d already made him almost late this morning, but he got an hour for lunch and it’d only been about forty minutes. Stiles motioned the bakery, wanting to get himself another pie, and Derek followed him in, the two of them perusing everything. The pie Stiles had bought the day before—a raspberry pecan pie—wasn’t offered today, so he just went for a strawberry rhubarb pie instead. Scott didn’t like rhubarb, so he was less likely to try and steal it. 

They went to the store next so that Stiles could buy that stupid cake that had landed him in this mess in the first place. Though to be fair, he had that cake to thank for his impromptu Derek meeting where the guy seemed to hate him a _little_ less, so he couldn’t be overly mad about it. 

Derek actually went around and bought some groceries—real food, too! He got some eggs and bacon and a bag of bagels and even some _chicken_ and _rice_. Stiles laughed about it, especially when Derek picked up some syrup, as if he expected Stiles to come over and make him pancakes at the ass crack of dawn. 

Spoiler alert: he totally would if he could find his way to his cabin without getting lost. 

When they got to the till, Derek made Stiles add the cake to his bill, even though he argued it heavily, but Derek was a Werewolf and even when he wasn’t obviously using his super strength, he was still using his super strength. 

Stiles and Heather chatted while she rang through all the items, and Derek informed her near the tail-end that she’d almost gotten Stiles killed and to _stop_ telling the nice guests about the shortcut. That had ended the entire encounter with her stuttering and apologizing profusely, even as Stiles insisted that it was fine and not to worry about it. 

“You didn’t have to make her so flustered,” Stiles insisted with a sigh, walking alongside Derek back towards the hill behind the store, taking the very shortcut Heather had just been chewed out about. 

“I want her to stop telling people about it. You’re probably not the first one to have gotten lost, you’re just the first one to have gotten lost _that_ badly.” He turned to arch an eyebrow at Stiles. “Didn’t you say something about having a good sense of direction?” 

“Rude,” Stiles informed him, and had to slow down a little bit since he had both a cake _and_ a pie. “Are we gonna make it back in time for you?” 

“Should only take about seven minutes, and I’ve still got ten. As long as you don’t drag your feet, I’ll make it.” 

“Asshole,” Stiles said to Derek’s back, but he was smirking while doing so, and he knew Derek heard it in his voice. 

They made it back to the resort in _five_ minutes, thank you very much, and Stiles followed Derek back up the steps and through the sliding door into the lobby. Derek stopped beside a door that looked to be for employees only and Stiles followed suit, smiling at him. 

“Thanks for lunch. You didn’t have to do that, you know.” 

“It’s fine,” Derek said, yet again, shifting the bags he held. Stiles wondered if maybe he was going to put them in the back, since he had some perishables in there. “I have dinner with my parents tonight.” 

Stiles smirked. “Yeah, I remember.” He’d been there during the invite, though Derek had made it sound like he wasn’t interested. His smirk just earned him a scowl. 

“Should be done around eight, if you wanted to meet me in the lobby. I can bring you back to mine so you can check out the books I have.” 

“Right!” Stiles had forgotten about that. “Yeah, sounds great! I’ll make sure we have dinner at a reasonable time so I can come down and meet you.” 

“Good.” Derek _almost_ smiled then, eyes skirting behind Stiles briefly before focussing on him once more. “Wear something warmer this time, so you don’t freeze to death.” 

Stiles didn’t know if he was crossing a line, but he was kind of a blunt person, and because he couldn’t help it, he said, “I mean, if I don’t, does that mean I get more half-naked cuddles?” 

Derek looked startled for a second, but before he could say anything, Stiles felt an arm snake around his shoulder, someone pressing into his side, and lips at his ear. 

“What’s this about half-naked cuddles? I’m down if you are.” 

The shudder of disgust that coursed through him then was actually almost comical. Or it would’ve been, if it hadn’t been happening to him, because Stiles had never had his mood soured _quite_ so fast in his entire life. 

He noticed Derek’s entire demeanour shift, expression darkening, hands tightening around what they held and muscles tensing. As much as Stiles would _love_ to see Derek tear Matt limb from limb, maybe not with a lobby full of people as witness. Later, like, at midnight, when Matt stumbled outside by accident and happened to get mauled by a wild animal. 

Oh no, so sad. 

Stiles ducked out from under Matt’s arm, stumbling a little from the action, then turned to shove the cake into his chest. Not too hard, since he didn’t want to have to go out for another, but with enough force to make him back up a step. 

“Here. It’s the cake for the others. Bring it up to them before they eat any more of my pie.” He knew the pie was long gone, but whatever. He just wanted Matt to fuck off. 

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” Matt said with a smirk, but he at least took the cake. 

“I must look fucking _adorable_ in your presence then,” Stiles snapped. Seriously, he was _trying_ to have a nice time, enjoy a conversation, make plans with someone who seemed like a _genuinely_ nice person. Why the fuck was Matt here to ruin his life? 

Seriously, he wanted to kick Danny, and he _loved_ Danny! 

“Can’t say I don’t appreciate the view,” Matt offered with a wink. Stiles just stared at him impassively, wondering if he could make him go away by sheer force of will alone. 

If not, then maybe Derek could, if the low growling emanating from him was anything to go by. Matt glanced at him briefly, giving him a once-over, scoffed, then turned back to Stiles. 

“I’ll see you back upstairs.”

Stiles didn’t say anything, watching Matt walk away until he was out of sight around the corner, in the direction of the elevators. Turning back to Derek while pretending to gag, he noticed Derek still staring after him, even though he was out of sight by now. 

“That’s why,” Stiles said, forcing Derek’s gaze back to him. His expression softened, but he frowned in confusion at the statement. 

“What’s why?”

“You asked last night why I was underdressed for the weather.” Stiles sighed and motioned over his shoulder. “That’s why. He’s my friend Danny’s roommate, and he has a huge and _gross_ boner for me. He’s super rich, so he isn’t used to being told no, so despite my very clear ‘not interested’ _banner_ , he doesn’t care. He wants what he wants.” 

Derek’s confused frown turned into a more annoyed one. “Your friends know this and they’re making you share a room with him?” 

“He wasn’t supposed to be coming,” Stiles muttered. “I almost had to share a fucking _bed_ with him, but thankfully my friends realized the vacation would end in murder and I’m sharing with Jackson instead.” He realized Derek didn’t know who was who and added, “The Kanima.”

Derek grunted his understanding, but Stiles honestly wasn’t sure if he knew which one that was. He seemed unhappy now, like he didn’t like hearing Stiles was stuck in a room with someone who basically touched him and fawned all over him without his consent. Sure, Stiles himself was touchy feely, but he had limits, and he’d _never_ act the way Matt did with him. If someone made it clear his presence wasn’t welcome, he wouldn’t forcibly insert himself into their personal space on a regular basis. 

“Eight o’clock,” Derek said eventually, even though it was clear he wanted to say _much_ more. “Bring warm clothes.” 

“I’ll be here,” Stiles confirmed, propping up his voice and smiling. 

Derek nodded once, then stood there. Stiles pressed his lips together, then realized Derek was waiting for him to walk away first, so he thanked him for lunch again, then turned and made his way for the elevator. When he rounded the corner, Derek was still standing there, and he wondered if he was going to wait until he disappeared into one of the lifts. 

Entering the elevator with a family of four who looked like they were ready to drop dead from a day of skiing, he smiled at the little girl who was trying to peek into his bag to see what he had, and then squeezed out around them to get off on the fourth floor. 

When he got back to the suite, only Matt, Lydia and Kira had returned. The girls wanted to take advantage of the spa the resort had, and Matt hadn’t wanted Stiles to be alone. Stiles _definitely_ wanted to be left alone, thank you, so he put the pie in their fridge for later, grabbed one of his books, and hastily went back downstairs to the lobby so he could find a spot by the window and read. 

Of course, it wasn’t that simple, because Matt just followed him knowing Stiles couldn’t go far, and proceeded to try and talk to him the entire time. Stiles ended up snapping at him, telling him he was perfectly happy sitting there reading on his own and to fuck off and do one of the many activities he could afford to do. 

Matt just scoffed at Stiles’ attitude, leaning a bit closer to him on the bench. “I happen to know you only have three books, Stiles. And your PSP isn’t going to entertain you forever. I’m willing to pay for some activities if you wanted to do some with me.” 

“I have enough entertainment to last the whole vacation,” he said dryly. “Seriously. Fuck off. I cannot _possibly_ be any clearer.” 

“Don’t worry.” Matt stood up, straightening his shirt like a fucking douchebag. “When the boredom sets in, I’ll be here. Just let me know when you want me.” 

Stiles made gagging noises at his back while Matt walked away, annoyed that he was just _such_ an asshole. Seriously, he didn’t understand how he and Danny were friends, but to be fair, Matt wasn’t _like_ this with Danny. He’d seen them interact, and Matt was actually a normal and kind human being with other people. He just wanted Stiles, and that meant he acted like _this_. 

And Stiles fucking _hated him_! 

Scowling down at his book, he had to go back a few pages since he hadn’t _actually_ been paying attention, and glanced up when someone stopped in front of him. He was ready to make a scene if it was Matt, but it was the guy working at the hole-in-the-wall café to his left, holding out a cup of hot chocolate. 

“Oh, thanks. Wrong person.” 

“Derek got it for you,” the guy said, motioning over his shoulder towards the front desk. 

Stiles stared at him, then leaned around him to look at Derek. There was a couple at the counter, arguing with each other, so Derek was looking right at him. He offered an almost smile and Stiles beamed at him, straightening and closing his book, reaching up to grab the cup with both hands. 

“Hey, thanks man.” 

“Don’t thank me, I just brought it over.” He shrugged, like he didn’t understand what the deal was, and then headed back to his station. 

“Thanks Derek,” Stiles said, knowing he could hear him, despite the noise around them. 

Derek nodded once in acknowledgement, then focussed back on the couple still arguing in front of him. 

Stiles had no idea what this was, but... well, it was _something_. 

And he was more than okay with that. 

* * *

The second he opened the front door, Derek wanted to immediately take a step back out of the house and shut it again. Laura was literally on him the second the door swung open, eyes alight with mischief and positively _buzzing_ with anticipation. 

“What’s this about a boy? Erica said there was a _boy_! And mum said you drove him here this morning! Why were you with him at seven in the morning Derek? Did you have a _sleepover_?” 

“Changed my mind, I’ll eat at home.” Derek started to step back out but Laura grabbed the front of his jacket and wrenched him into the house, shutting the door behind him and dragging him through the large front hall towards the kitchen.

“You’re not going _anywhere_ until I get the scoop! Who is he? When did you meet him? How do you know him? Why did you give him a ride this morning? Was he at your house? _Why_ was he at your house?” 

“Laura,” Talia insisted when they crossed the threshold into the kitchen. “Behave.” 

“Yeah, be nice to your brother,” Jason insisted, wrapping an arm around Laura’s shoulders and kissing her temple, nodding a greeting to Derek. 

“It’s basically in my job description as his sister to _not_ be nice to him,” Laura insisted, though she _did_ let go of his jacket and he immediately shrugged it off, moving back down the corridor to toss it on the banister. He and Laura always tossed their coats there when they used to live in the house, and it was a habit they’d never gotten out of, despite the fact that there was a perfectly handy coat rack right by the front door. 

Moving back towards the kitchen while rolling up his sleeves, a little hot in the large house, his mother was still at the stove mixing something and Laura had been tasked with cutting up a baguette. Jason was sitting at the island watching, a beer between his hands that he was shifting back and forth. 

Jason was a strange pick for his sister, in Derek’s opinion. When she’d first introduced him to the family as her mate, honestly, Derek and Cora had thought she was joking. Laura was 5'7", with long, glossy black hair, striking brown eyes, killer cheekbones and the look of a literal model. 

Nothing against Jason, but he was—kind of the opposite. He was only 5'2", a little heavyset from working a stationary job, and was kind of homely-looking. When people first saw the two of them together, outside the immediate area where people knew Laura was a Hale, the general consensus was that Laura was a gold digger and Jason had to be some kind of rich guy to have bagged a babe like her. 

Honestly, it had made Laura sad for the first year they’d been dating, but Jason never seemed to mind and he was thrilled that Laura loved him. He didn’t care what she looked like, he insisted it was her heart he fell in love with, and that was the kind of sappy shit that got Laura melting into a puddle of goo. 

Derek hated it. 

He hated that he kind of wanted it even more. 

Ever since Kate, relationships _definitely_ weren’t a thing he wanted, and he was _still_ adamant that he’d turn his back on his mate if they ever showed up because he didn’t need that kind of shit in his life. But he still kind of wanted it. 

It just reminded him of how nice it had been this morning, seeing Stiles in his kitchen, making breakfast, wearing his clothes, how well he just _fit_. Then again, everything about Stiles was confusing for him, because he felt like he wanted to _know_ him, but he also didn’t understand _why_. 

Derek was not a people person. He didn’t make friendly with any of the guests, ever. Everyone else, sure. Jessica had flings with people now and again, and so did Kevin Francis, the other guy who worked the front desk with Derek. 

Laura had made friendly with some people—just friendly, not flings, she had Jason—and so had many of the other people in his life. They made friends, traded numbers, hung out. Derek wasn’t really like that. He didn’t like making friendly with people in general, mostly because of Kate, but also because he didn’t really see the point. 

The people who came up here came for vacation, and then they left. The chances of seeing them again were slim, even for the ones who returned on a regular basis. He didn’t know that he wanted to bother forming friendships with people he’d see twice a year, it seemed stupid. 

Stiles was just... different. Derek supposed the reason he was so interested was because of what Stiles had done yesterday. The fact that he’d come over, arms laden with bags, and warned him about Kate. He hadn’t _had_ to do that, he could’ve just assumed Derek knew, or figured it wasn’t his business and kept going with his day. But he hadn’t. 

It was like that one action, of Stiles being selfless and caring of someone else for no other reason than it being the right thing to do, had flipped some kind of switch in Derek’s brain. It wasn’t that he’d immediately been thinking about him, it was just that he felt like he’d _noticed_ him a bit more since that third encounter. 

And finding him wandering around in the woods in the middle of the night, someone who’d been nice enough to warn him away from Kate, freezing and terrified and _lost_... he didn’t know. He hadn’t wanted him to get hurt. He’d wanted to help him. 

Derek acknowledged that not many people were allowed in his house, and he supposed that the fact that Stiles was about as non-threatening as they came made it easier to let him in. His scent helped, and well, again, he was just a nice guy.

Not to mention lunch had actually been _fun_. Derek had kind of invited him out on a whim, recognizing that Stiles seemed bored based on their brief conversations the night before, and he wanted to get to know him a bit more, anyway. And lunch had been _perfect_ for that, since Stiles apparently didn’t like silence and kept the commentary going the entire time they were together. 

Actually, Derek felt like the thing he liked the most about Stiles was how easily they could talk to each other. Stiles didn’t seem to have much of a filter, and he also didn’t seem to be put off by Derek’s sometimes abrasive comments. He was pretty sure he’d called Stiles an idiot multiple times over the past twenty-four hours, and Stiles didn’t once bitch him out for being a dick. 

To be fair, Stiles _was_ an idiot, and Derek was _never_ going to get over how stupid he was for last night, but that was hardly the point. The point was, Stiles just fired back as good as he got, and Derek really liked that. It was like talking to a less annoying version of Cora. 

Or maybe a more annoying version, but he was biassed because Cora was his sister and he had to find her annoying on principle. 

Derek was still standing by the kitchen entrance with his arms crossed and watching Laura butcher the bread—probably explained why Jason was the cook in their household—when his father came up behind him, patting his shoulder once and smiling on his way by. 

“Nice of you to drop by. Have a good night last night?” 

“If the entire purpose of my invitation was for details on last night, I’m just going to head home right now,” Derek informed them all dryly. 

“I’m just here for your mom’s cooking,” Jason said, raising one hand in surrender. “I need a break, and I don’t feel like getting poisoned by your sister.” 

Laura threw a piece of baguette at him and Jason grinned, lifting his beer in silent toast before taking a sip of it. 

“We were just interested in the young man you brought home last night, that’s all,” Michael said, moving up beside Talia to see what she was making before turning back to Derek. “You don’t often bring people home, we were curious about him.” 

“Erica says he’s cute,” Laura sing-songed. Derek picked up the piece of baguette she’d thrown at Jason and hurled it at her head. She jerked when it hit her, turned to him with a frown and then threw another piece at him. Derek ducked it, smirking, and before she could toss another one at him—and miss again—their father stepped between them. 

“Laura, I’d prefer we had some bread left for dinner.” 

Laura made a face at Derek when Michael turned back to Talia and Derek just smirked at her, mimicking crying. It looked like she was debating whether or not she could get away with throwing more bread at him. 

“He was an attractive young man,” Talia suddenly said from the stove, Laura whipping around to look at her, a delighted expression on her face. “I think you’d like him, Laura.” 

“Oh,” she said with a grin, looking back at Derek. “Got yourself a hot booty call? Good for you, Derek!” 

“For fuck’s sake,” Derek muttered, crossing his arms again and leaning back against the wall. “I didn’t bring home a booty call. I was out for a run, as you _very well know_ , since you tried to invite yourself along.” Laura waved his words off easily. “The moron got lost on his way to the village, tried to take the shortcut Heather told him about.” 

“Heather shouldn’t be telling guests about that shortcut, it’s dangerous when you don’t know the area,” Talia said, a scowl clear in her tone. 

“Exactly what I told her today when I saw her,” Derek agreed. “Anyway, he got lost and was all the way out by my place, so you know he’d been walking for a while. His lips were literally blue, I couldn’t just leave him there. So I brought him home and helped him warm up. It was more trouble than it was worth driving him back so late, it was almost midnight by then, so I just told him to stay and brought him back this morning. That’s _it_.” He gave Laura a pointed look and she pouted a little, seeming disappointed. 

“That was very kind of you,” Talia said, turning to offer him a smile. “I’m glad you found him.” 

“Me too,” Derek admitted. 

“What’s his name?” 

“Stiles.” 

“Unusual name,” Michael said slowly, but Derek just shrugged. It was the guy’s name, what could he do? 

“He’s one of the group with the wolves,” Derek told them. When the Alpha and his friends had checked in, Derek had immediately told his mother, who’d told the rest of the pack. They needed to be aware of other wolves in their territory, and while it was just the two of them, Derek knew the group was a mish-mash of various Supernaturals, not to mention apparently Kate Argent’s niece, who was also a Hunter. 

He’d told his mother that earlier this morning after his shift had started, just in case. She didn’t seem concerned about Stiles’ friend ‘Ally’ so much, so Derek tried not to dwell on it. Besides, Stiles was a good person as far as he could tell, and based on what he’d been told, Ally also seemed like a good person. 

But seriously, Kate was one fucked up bitch. To think she’d almost gotten her niece killed in an attempt to kill a Werewolf. Derek was almost more annoyed with himself for having fallen for such a maniac. 

“I’m surprised he stayed with you,” Laura admitted. “Knowing you’re a Werewolf while belonging to another pack. Wasn’t he worried?” 

Derek sighed, a little disheartened. “Stiles doesn’t seem to have the best survival instincts. He told me a few stories about his time in his pack, and I think he’s more of a protector of others than someone concerned with their own safety. If we lived in a zombie apocalypse, Stiles would be the first guy to bite the dust trying to protect someone else.” 

Laura narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “How did you guys have so much time to chat? Didn’t he show up super late at your place? How much ‘chatting’ could there possibly _be_ happening that late at night?” 

Derek stared at her, realizing his mistake. He knew it was only a matter of time before she texted around and Hayden outed him, so it was easier to admit now from the get-go. So he told them about lunch. 

And about inviting him over after dinner. But only for books! It was only for books! 

Laura was, predictably, _super_ annoying about it, and Talia had to tell her to tone it down a bit to avoid Derek just walking out. He loved his family, he did, but his sisters were really obnoxious. He was just glad Cora was out with Malia tonight, because if she’d _also_ been there, he would’ve left by now. 

They had dinner in the dining room once it was ready. Derek had assumed they were eating soup, but it was actually beef stew with rice and bread. It was delicious, as was all of his mother’s food, and reminded him why he often came by to eat. He really should try and make his own meals though. He was just lazy and tired after a long day at work, and making canned ravioli or Kraft Dinner was just easier. 

Then again, he’d bought a whole bunch of groceries today. A part of him felt like it was because Stiles had been commenting on his empty kitchen, but another part felt like it was because he really _should_ try and make his own food sometimes. He shouldn’t constantly rely on other people to make things for him. 

Once dinner was finished, Derek and Jason cleared the table and did the dishes, chatting about the new show Jason had just gotten into. It sounded interesting, and Derek figured maybe he’d give it a try. He didn’t watch much TV, since cable out this way was shit, but they had surprisingly good internet and the show was on Netflix, so he could probably check it out. 

They were still chatting in the kitchen together, leaning against the counter while Jason drank the same beer he’d been nursing all night, when Laura poked her head in. 

“Hey, didn’t you say you and your new boyfriend had plans?”

“Not my boyfriend,” he insisted with a sigh. 

“Right, whatever, what time was that at?” 

Derek frowned, then turned to check the time on the stove. “Oh shit!” 

“Mmhm, have fun with your boyfriend!” she called after him as he rushed to the door. 

“Not my boyfriend!” Siblings were the worst, he hated that he had two of them.

Calling a thanks and farewell to his parents, he pulled his coat back on and hustled out of the house. He wasn’t late, it was still five-to, but he didn’t want Stiles to think he wasn’t coming if he wasn’t there at _exactly_ eight. 

Hurrying around the side of the house, he climbed onto his snowmobile and started it up. It was early enough that he could drive it over to the resort without anyone complaining about the noise, but he’d have to figure out what to do later when he drove Stiles back. Maybe he’d drive him up to the tree-line and then walk him back to the resort. Just to be sure he didn’t get lost from the tree-line to the front door. 

Stopping right outside the entrance, he shut the engine off, nodding to a few of the guests in greeting out of habit, and headed quickly inside. He still had time before eight, but Stiles was already waiting for him in the lobby, sitting in the same spot as that afternoon. He grinned when he saw Derek, getting to his feet but staying by the bench as Derek approached. Stiles held his hands out to him, palms out.

“Gloves. Hat.” He pointed at his head, then unzipped the front of his coat and made a big show of motioning his chest. “Hoodie. Do I pass?” 

“I suppose,” Derek said with a small huff of a laugh, then pointed back out the door. “Ready?” 

“You said I passed.” 

“I said ‘I suppose,’” he insisted. 

“Still counts,” Stiles argued with a grin, then turned and grabbed the plastic bag that had been on the bench beside him. “I brought pie. Figured this way, the others wouldn’t eat it. You like strawberry rhubarb?” 

“It’s okay.” Derek wasn’t particularly fond of rhubarb, but he liked strawberries, so maybe a pie with both would be good. “I just need to grab my groceries from the back.” 

“Sure.” Stiles motioned for him to shoo with one hand and Derek turned to rush for the kitchens. 

Erica and Jessica were both at the front desk chatting, and Erica smirked at him knowingly when he passed by. He flipped her off without even looking. Jessica’s shift would be over soon and she would be heading home for the night. She had tomorrow off, which meant Kevin would be working with Derek tomorrow. 

He much preferred Kevin over Jessica. Kevin didn’t try to hit on him. Though Jessica had been surprisingly good about her flirting since lunch, and Derek wondered if maybe it was because he and Stiles had gone out together. 

He didn’t dwell on it too much, heading into the back and through the corridor to the kitchen, grunting greetings to the people who called out to him. When he got to the kitchen, they were cleaning up most of the stations since the restaurant closed at nine and they tended to get less people in the last hour. 

Derek grabbed his perishables from the fridge, then his other items from the corner of the large pantry and grunted a good night to the people cleaning up. One of them looked startled and called out a farewell, but nobody else said anything. 

He made it back out into the lobby quickly, heading over to Stiles again, who was still where he’d left him, holding the pie in his hands and looking pleased with himself. 

“Ready?” Derek asked again.

“Lead the way.” 

Derek snorted softly and headed out of the resort, Stiles following behind him. They went over to his snowmobile and Derek shifted all his bags into one hand so he could lift the seat up. He took the pie from Stiles, putting it down in the compartment underneath the seat, then added his own groceries on the other side, trying to make sure both the pie and the eggs were safe from harm. Getting the seat back into place, he climbed on and started it up, Stiles sliding into place behind him. 

Turning them around, Derek headed back for his home, being mindful of both his passenger as well as the groceries he had. He wanted to go a bit faster, because he didn’t want to lose out on too much time with Stiles since he’d have to bring him back sooner rather than later, but he acknowledged he had to be a bit careful. 

Once they reached his place, Derek parked around the side as normal and turned off the snowmobile. Stiles slid off the back, but kept one hand on Derek’s shoulder. 

“It’s very dark,” he informed him. 

Derek couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him at that. “Right. Sorry, Werewolf. I guess a human would keep a light on or something.” 

“Or something,” Stiles agreed. 

Derek climbed off and lifted the seat. There was a small light inside the compartment, but it was built more to help see inside it than around it. He pulled out his groceries, handing Stiles the pie, and then shut it once more. 

Stiles kept one hand on his shoulder while they made their way around the side of the house, Derek unlocking the door and turning on the hall light. Stiles’ hand slid off his shoulder then, the two of them moving into his house and Derek shut and locked the door. 

He made doubly sure it was locked before kicking off his boots and heading down the corridor to the kitchen with his groceries. 

“So how was dinner with your parents?” Stiles asked, keeping his voice level since he knew Derek could hear him. It sounded like he was taking off his coat and boots at the door. 

“It was fine,” he said, putting the bags down on his counter and heading back out to the corridor while undoing his own coat. 

“Is everything always just _fine_ with you?” Stiles asked suspiciously, lifting his head from his bent over position so he could see Derek heading back in his direction. He was still untying his boots, and Derek wondered if they were different from the ones he’d been wearing yesterday. 

“Most things are fine,” he agreed. “ _Seriously_.” He smirked. 

Stiles laughed sarcastically, rolled his eyes, and finished with his boots, toeing them off and straightening. He picked up the pie while Derek hung up his coat and they headed back for the kitchen. 

“My bookshelf’s over there, if you wanted to get started. I’ll cut the pie.” Derek nodded towards his books, tucked away behind his television. His cabin wasn’t huge, so he had to make room where he could find it, and his shelves ended up along the far wall behind his television set. There was enough space to comfortably stand in front of the books, but he kind of wished he had a better setup. 

“Thanks.” Stiles pulled his gloves off, setting them on the counter, and then wandered over to the shelf. 

Derek busied himself with pulling out plates and getting the pie out of the bag so he could cut them some slices. He listened to Stiles’ movements across the space, the way his heart was slow and steady, his breathing even. It was weird having someone else in his place that wasn’t his family or pack, but he didn’t hate it as much as he thought he would. 

Stiles’ usual scent followed wherever he went, only slightly overpowered by the pie he was cutting. He checked the freezer to see if he had any ice cream, but he didn’t, so he just popped the plates in the microwave for a few seconds to heat the slices up a bit, and then set them down on the counter, leaning forward on it and watching Stiles pick up books, read the back, and replace them. 

“You’re got a lot of good titles here,” Stiles said, fingers running along the spines. “Not as many as I expected, though.” He turned to grin at Derek teasingly, who just gave him a look in response. 

“I’m a little short on space. A lot of books my family owns in general end up in my parents’ basement.” 

“Hm,” Stiles said, picking up a book, reading the back and then hanging on to it while turning to head back for the kitchen counter. “Why don’t you guys set up a library?” 

Derek arched an eyebrow at him. “Is that a joke?” 

“No, seriously.” There was that word again. It was probably Stiles’ favourite word or something. “Think about it: I can’t be the only person who’s injured and poor at this resort. If you guys have all these books, maybe you could like, have a little alcove like the coffee shop and lend out books. People could check them out based on their room number or something and if they don’t return them, you could charge like, two dollars a book or something.” 

Stiles set the chosen book down on the counter, Derek’s eyes straying to it. It was _American Assassin_ by Vince Flynn. A good choice, interesting read. 

“I don’t know that I’d be too happy if someone took off with my favourite book,” he argued, straightening and grabbing a fork, passing it over to Stiles. 

“Then don’t put up your favourite books,” he insisted, rolling his eyes and taking the offered cutlery. “I think it’d be a good idea. It would also encourage people to read, you know? Like, at the end of the day, most people go back to their rooms and rot their brains watching TV or something. If you had another option, it would mean more people actually enriching their minds with something more stimulating than television.” 

Derek had to admit, he wasn’t wrong. And they _did_ have a lot of books in the basement... They could probably carve out a space in the lobby for it. After all, the alcove café hadn’t been there originally, but a lot of people complained for a while about wanting ‘just a coffee’ after a long day of skiing and most didn’t feel like waiting in the restaurant for a drink, heading back out to the café by the slopes, _or_ going to the village. The alcove café had taken them only about two weeks to build and set up, and it was really popular. 

They had space on the opposite side of the lobby, and Stiles was right about not being the only injured person who was stuck inside all day. It could be good, and it’d open up another position for someone to work in the resort. His mother was always looking for reasons to hire the younger people in town, just so they had some income generated during their holidays. 

“I’ll talk to my parents,” he finally said, Stiles beaming at him and seeming pleased with himself. 

He stabbed at his pie, cutting through the point and then popped it into his mouth. He chewed for a second, then his eyes widened and he made a pleased sound, similar to what he’d done back in the village when he’d tasted the chips. Derek found he really liked the little things Stiles did like that. It was just such an honest and adorable method of expressing delight in something. 

“This is good pie. Damn,” he said, getting another forkful of it and shoving it into his mouth. 

“Yeah, they make good stuff at the bakery,” Derek agreed, taking his own first bite. It was all right, but rhubarb still wasn’t his favourite. Still, it was good enough for him to finish the slice. Slower than Stiles, but he had a feeling Stiles was just the kind of person who did everything in super-speed. He certainly talked in super-speed sometimes, and he was excitable and flaily. It was annoyingly adorable. 

“So,” Stiles said, scraping his fork’s edge along the plate to collect any crumbs that had escaped him, “tell me about you, Mr. Derek Hale. Born Werewolf, according to our conversation last night.”

“Yes,” he agreed, covering the pie back up so he could stick it in the fridge. He didn’t think it’d be bad to leave it out for a little while, but just in case. 

“That’s cool. So born wolves can like, transform then?”

“All wolves can transform,” Derek insisted, turning back to Stiles and then motioning the living room. He didn’t want to talk with the counter between them, it felt a bit too guarded. 

“Into a full wolf, jackass, don’t be like that,” Stiles insisted, slapping him lightly in the arm when he rounded the counter, the two of them moving to the couch. Stiles fell onto the side one of the blanket from the previous night was on and promptly wrapped himself up in it. Derek didn’t think he was cold, per se, but he still acknowledged his cabin wasn’t the warmest place in the world. 

Derek didn’t often get the chance to talk about being a Werewolf with people. Certainly not with a human. His father and Jason didn’t count, since the former had been in the know about Werewolves long before Derek was even born, and Jason himself had grown up as part of a pack himself. Similar to Stiles, though Jason’s father was a Werewolf as opposed to Stiles just being best friends with one. 

It was kind of interesting, the questions Stiles had for him, the things he was curious about. He never pried, and only offered up inquiries that were decently open-ended so that Derek could answer as much or as little as he wanted. For the most part, Stiles just seemed curious about the differences, like he was cataloguing things. 

Apparently when Scott had been turned, nobody had known what the fuck was going on and Stiles had ended up being the research guy. That had only gotten worse when Jackson had been turned because they suddenly had _another_ Werewolf in their midst who was entirely _different_ from their _first_ Werewolf. And then apparently _another_ friend went through something traumatic and turned into a Banshee and Stiles by that point had wanted to just give up entirely. 

Derek liked listening to Stiles talk. He was really passionate about everything, and when he started talking about all his friends, he pulled out his phone and flipped through pictures of them so that Derek would have a better idea of who was who. There were a _lot_ of pictures of Scott, Allison and Stiles together, and he explained it was because they went to the same university. He did have pictures with the others too, but none with the guy who’d been hanging all over him. 

Honestly, when the guy had come up to Stiles and slithered right into his space, Derek had felt a small stab of disappointment. He and Stiles had been getting along, but that didn’t mean Stiles was interested in him, or even _single_ despite the jokes and occasional flirts. When the guy had shown up and gotten right into Stiles’ space, he’d had a second to be disappointed, and then less than that for the disappointment to switch to annoyance, and then protectiveness. 

Stiles’ entire demeanour changed the moment the guy had sidled up to him. He’d gone rigid, defensive, and it became instantly clear that this was someone he wasn’t particularly fond of. Derek didn’t know what their history was, but Stiles reacting how he did, ducking out from under his arm, and then shoving the cake at him had made it pretty obvious they weren’t involved. 

Derek only remembered the small fight during check-in later on in the day, because to be fair, he checked in a lot of people and didn’t remember everything about all of them. But Stiles and his friend Scott had kind of stuck out in his mind because of Scott being a Werewolf, and upon reflection, he remembered Stiles being pissed someone had come and almost having to share a bed with him. 

It was the same conversation Stiles had had with him after the guy had walked off. Stiles had expected to come on this vacation having a good time and hanging out with friends. Instead, he was stuck in the lodge all day with nothing to do, and rooming with someone who kept hitting on him without seeming to recognize or care that it was creepy and unwelcome. 

“So what’s his name, anyway?” Derek asked when they’d moved on to talking about the group as a whole. 

“Who?”

“The guy who was hanging all over you this afternoon.” 

Stiles made a face at that. It was kind of cute. “Matthew Daehler. Like I said, rich, pretentious fuckboy who thinks money buys everything, including people. He was okay the first time I met him, he was nice and all, but after I left he started sending me dick pics.” Stiles rolled his eyes at that. “Seriously, like I _want_ dick pics. If I want to look at a dick, I’ll just pull down my own pants.” 

Derek snorted at that and Stiles offered him a cheeky grin. 

“Anyway, things get worse every time I see him. Next semester is our last semester though, so I figure hopefully he and Danny will part ways after graduation and I won’t have to worry about him anymore.” 

“Or he’ll just figure out where you are and move there with all the money he has,” Derek offered. 

Stiles gave him a horrified look, then kicked at him lightly with his socked foot. “Dude, _why_? Why would you put that thought in my head? Jesus, I’m going to have to become some kind of recluse, live alone in a cabin far off in the woods.” He paused, then smirked. “Like you.” 

“I’m not a recluse.” 

“Kind of a recluse,” Stiles argued with a wink. 

“You’re lucky my cabin is so far out in the woods, or you’d have frozen to death last night.”

“True,” Stiles conceded, shifting around under the blankets for a second. When a hand emerged, he was holding his phone up and he straightened instantly, looking over at Derek. “Shit! It’s way later than I thought! You need to sleep, sorry.” He started to scramble out from under the blankets and Derek pulled his own phone out to check the time. 

It was already almost eleven. Stiles had been over for just under three hours, and it had passed by like mere minutes. Maybe his friends and family weren’t entirely off-base making friendly with some of the guests, it sure made time go by faster. And he hadn’t spent the evening reading or watching television, or wasting his time online watching YouTube videos or browsing Reddit.

Now that he thought about it, his life was kind of boring... 

Surprisingly, Derek didn’t really want Stiles to go. He kept thinking about how nice it had been last night, sharing his space with someone. How much he’d _liked_ seeing Stiles in his kitchen this morning, making him breakfast, waking him up in a way where Derek was an actual human being and not just an animal grunting greetings at people. 

He watched Stiles stand, shoving his phone into his pocket, commenting on taking the pie back, wondering about the time aloud and other random things. 

“You could just stay again.” 

Derek hadn’t realized he’d actually said the words aloud until Stiles froze, and slowly turned to face him, mouth practically hanging open. He scowled at the reaction, crossing his arms almost defensively. 

“You stayed last night, is it so weird I’d let you stay again?” 

“I mean—I kind of disrupted your entire morning routine,” Stiles said cautiously. 

Derek shrugged. “It’s fine,” he insisted, because it _was_ fine. “Driving you back and then coming home would take me longer than just having you bunk here again, anyway. And this way, you can make it clear to that Matt guy that you hate being around him so much you’d rather risk spending the night with an unknown Werewolf than go back to a room he’s present in.” 

Stiles squinted at him, expression thoughtful. “I _do_ like the idea of not having to see him again for a few hours.” He stood beside the couch then, seeming to ponder this, then nodded once, eyes returning to Derek. “I mean, if you’re sure it’s okay. Seriously, I can take the couch.” 

“ _Seriously_ ,” Derek said with an explosive sigh, “it’s _fine_.” 

“You know, you rag of my overuse of the word ‘seriously’ but I think you underestimate how much you say things are ‘fine,’” Stiles informed him, pointing a finger at him and half-smirking. “But uh, sure. Okay, yeah. I can—I mean, I guess I can repay you with making you breakfast again.” He perked up. “Hey! And you have groceries this time! I can probably make you something worthwhile!” 

“I usually get a breakfast sandwich at work,” he informed him. “When you ragged on me about my fridge and pantry, I kind of unconsciously bought ingredients for it.” 

“Nice, nice,” Stiles said, nodding while looking towards the kitchen. “Okay, sounds good. Tomorrow, while you shower, I shall make you a breakfast sandwich fit for the Gods!” 

“And for you.” 

“I’m not eating your food, dude.” 

Derek just gave him an unimpressed look. Stiles fidgeted for a few seconds, then sighed explosively and threw his hands up in defeat before turning towards the kitchen. Derek twisted around on the couch and watched Stiles mutter to himself about bossy Werewolves while he proceeded to put all their dishes from eating the pie in the dishwasher. Once he was done, he washed his hands, and wiped them on his jeans, looking thoughtful. 

“I don’t have anything with me.” 

“You can sleep in the same clothes as last night, they should still be where you left them.” He stood and stretched, suddenly feeling tired now that they were talking about bed. “I can lend you another shirt for tomorrow.” 

“You got a spare toothbrush?” 

Derek thought for a moment, honestly unsure, then headed for his bathroom to check. He had to dig around under the sink for a bit, but he did end up finding a new toothbrush, probably from one of his last dentist visits, whenever _that_ had been. 

Had to keep up appearances, so they went to the dentist same as all the humans. The doctor’s was a bit harder, since they had to be more careful about it, but they’d gotten all their usual shots and whatnot when they were younger to make like the Hales weren’t anti-vaxxers, and then stopped going once they were all legal age. 

Stiles had followed him to the bathroom, so he just held up the new toothbrush and the other man grinned, grabbing it and nodding a thanks. 

“I’ll change so you can use the bathroom first,” Derek said, easing out around Stiles. 

“Thanks.” 

He grunted in response, disappearing into his room and shutting the door. He mostly did that for Stiles’ benefit, since wolves didn’t really have any shame, but he felt like Stiles might appreciate at least _some_ semblance of privacy between them. Wasn’t like they’d known one another for very long, after all. 

Changing out of his clothes and grabbing a fresh pair of boxer-briefs, Derek dug around in his drawers for something to wear tomorrow, since he _still_ mostly had stuff at his parents’ and at work. He found another Henley, but this one was brown. He figured he could just wear it to work and switch out once he got there. Thankfully he had another one of the black turtlenecks for Stiles to wear tomorrow, so he pulled the clothes he’d need out and set them on top of his dresser for the morning. 

When he exited his room, Stiles had just opened the bathroom door and they shifted around each other to trade places. Derek brushed his teeth and did his business, then washed his hands and went through his home to turn off lights. He double-checked the lock on the front door again, just to be absolutely sure it was locked, and then headed to his room.

Stiles was already under the covers on the same side of the bed as last night, his clothes in a heap on the floor by the end of the bed. Derek snorted at that, feeling like Stiles would trip over them in the night, but he didn’t comment on it and just turned off the light, shutting his bedroom door. 

“My phone’s gonna die again,” Stiles said with a sigh, tapping away on it. He was probably texting his friends so they wouldn’t worry about where he was.

“Sorry, I’d offer my charger, but I need it for my alarm,” Derek said, sliding under the covers and getting settled. 

“Nah, it’s fine. Technology rots the brain, anyway. It’s just that I know Scott’s a worrier, especially with you being a Werewolf and all.”

“Like I said at lunch, your survival skills don’t seem to be great, so I can see why he’d worry.” 

Stiles flipped him off, but he was smiling while doing so, eyes still on his phone. Seeming satisfied with whatever response he got, he twisted to set the phone down on the second nightstand, only turning off the screen once he was sure he wouldn’t miss it in the dark, and then lay down beside Derek, rolling onto his side to face him. Derek himself was on his back, but had his head angled in Stiles’ direction so he could see him. He was pretty sure Stiles couldn’t see him at all now that all the lights were off. Wasn’t like there was any light coming from outside. 

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep,” he admitted with a frown. “I slept a _lot_ today after I got back.” 

“You can go in the living room and read if you can’t manage it. Not like you can’t nap later if need be.” 

“True,” Stiles conceded. “You reset your alarm?” 

“Didn’t change it from this morning.” 

Stiles hummed at that, then shifted around in bed again so he was on his back. “Okay, sleepy time.” 

“What are you, five?” 

“Twenty-two, I thank you,” he insisted, then frowned in the darkness and turned to look at Derek. “How old are _you_?” 

“Twenty-seven.” 

“Wow, you are _old_.” 

“Fuck you.” Derek reached out to shove at him, Stiles laughing unrepentantly. “Go to sleep.” 

“Yes sir.”

“Stop calling me sir.” 

“Okay _dad_.” 

“You’re really annoying.” 

“One of my many, _many_ charms,” Stiles teased. 

Honestly... he wasn’t wrong. 

* * *

Stiles was never going to _stop_ being embarrassed when he woke up half on top of Derek. Sure, it had only happened twice so far, but drooling all over a hot Werewolf’s chest wasn’t exactly one of his finer moments. 

At least he didn’t seem to be kicking him or hitting him in the face, so that was a plus. 

The morning went along the same as the day before, with Stiles getting dressed and making breakfast while Derek showered and woke up a bit more for his day. He felt guilty making himself a meal as well, but Derek was a Bossy McBosspants and he was too tired to deal with a death glare at six in the morning, so he just did as he’d been told. 

The bagel breakfast sandwiches were actually really good. He didn’t know what kind of bacon Derek had bought, but it tasted better than regular bacon somehow, and he was pretty damn pleased with the outcome. He hadn’t added any tabasco sauce to his own, because he didn’t like setting his mouth on fire, but Derek seemed happy with the amount he’d put on his. 

When they left, Derek told him to just leave the pie. He promised he wasn’t a fan of rhubarb and that he wouldn’t eat any of it without Stiles. He only agreed to leave it because it gave him an excuse to come back, though he didn’t say this to Derek. 

They didn’t go to his parents’ place that morning, apparently his father was off today and he didn’t want to wake him, so they drove the snowmobile to the edge of the wooded area, and then climbed off. Derek pushed it the rest of the way to the house, leaving it beside another one parked around back before they trudged through the snow towards the resort together. 

Stiles didn’t want to wake up his friends with his return, and honestly, he didn’t really feel like he should sleep the day away again or it’d fuck up his sleep schedule, so when they hit the lobby, Stiles headed to his preferred bench with the book he’d borrowed and his shirt from yesterday and settled in to read. 

He could hear the blonde girl at the front teasing Derek about Stiles having shown up with him _two days_ in a row, but Derek’s voice was too quiet for him to really hear any of the rebukes. He didn’t mind, he found it kind of nice that Derek didn’t seem to make friendly with people very often, and had somehow warmed up to Stiles just because he was an idiot who’d almost died in the woods by his house. 

When the blonde was off work, she disappeared around the corner where the restaurant was. When she came back around, she had a plate of French toast and a huge milkshake—Stiles was jealous, really—and then he watched Derek’s eyes track her _all the way_ to his bench. 

“Hiya cutie,” she said with a smirk. “Mind if I sit? ‘Course you don’t.” She shuffled over to sit beside him and he closed the book over his finger so he didn’t lose his spot. It was interesting so far, he was looking forward to seeing what was going to happen. 

“Done for the day?” he asked, wishing she still had a name tag since he hadn’t thought to look yesterday, and he didn’t know her name. 

“Mmhm. I work the night shift. It’s boring as hell most of the time, and my boyfriend works the kitchen in the morning, so our time together is limited.” She cut off a huge chunk of bread and stuffed it into her mouth, using one finger to wipe at syrup that had escaped the corner of her lips. He didn’t know what kind of lipstick she was wearing, but it was impeccable. Lydia would probably want to know where she’d gotten it. 

“That sucks,” he said honestly. 

“Yup. Derek wishes he could work the night shift, avoid people, but his mom is worried he’s going to turn into a recluse—” Stiles shifted his gaze to Derek and smirked, since that was what he’d called Derek the night before. Derek didn’t look impressed. “—so she makes him work the day shift. Lucky for him, or he wouldn’t have met you.”

Stiles turned back to her, offering a shrug. “I mean, he found me wandering in the woods, so I think it’s more likely if he’d been working the night shift, I’d have died. Or at least been in big trouble.”

The girl hummed, chewing on another bite of her French toast. Stiles noticed more than half of it was gone and he frowned suspiciously, then glanced up at her again. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought she might also be a Werewolf. Derek had a pack here, after all, they’d spoken about that, so it stood to reason some of the people he was friends with would have to be Werewolves. 

He and this girl seemed to be closer than the one he worked the day shift with, and that suggested pack dynamics. 

“I’m Stiles, by the way.” 

“Erica,” she said, waving her knife a little in a mock wave. 

“You know Derek long?” 

“ _Too_ long. I’m friends with his sister. And he’s basically my brother, in more than one way.” She smirked taking another bite of food, and her eyes flashed gold for barely a second, confirming his suspicions. He was fairly certain she and Derek could have a muttered argument with one another across the lobby and no one would notice. 

“That’s really cool, that you guys know each other so well. He’s a really cool guy.” 

The laugh that escaped her then was loud, and somewhat startling. “He’s an abrasive asshole who kicks you when you’re down, but rumour has it you have a smart mouth on you. Not a lot of people can keep up with his unique level of sass.” 

“I am the sassiest motherfucker you will ever meet,” Stiles informed her. “Derek’s sass is like child’s play.” Had Derek even sassed him once since they’d met? Okay, maybe once. But really, he was more blunt than sassy. There was a difference. 

And Stiles had grown up with a weirdo like Coach Finstock, so anyone else was almost boring by comparison. 

Erica looked amused by his response. “You seem fun. I like fun people. We’re having game night at Laura’s today, you should come. Bring your new grumpy friend, if you can manage to get him to join us. He never does for the in-person events.” 

Stiles was a second away from saying yes when he remembered he had his own friends upstairs. So far, he’d spent more of his vacation with Derek than with them. Sure, they were out all day skiing and having a good time, but the evenings were kind of reserved for them hanging out together and he hadn’t really been around much for that. 

“Maybe,” he said instead. “I’ll have to see if my friends and I have plans for tonight. And if Derek even wants to go.” 

“He doesn’t, but he should. It’s fun. We play Werewolf.” Her eyes flashed again, grinning brightly. “You ever play?” 

“Depends. Is it the game where you’re like, a village of people and there are Werewolves and a Seer and stuff and you ‘go to sleep’ at night and the game master kills people?” 

“That’s the one. And hey, you can bring your group of friends, if you want. It’s more fun when we’re a bigger group where we don’t all know each other.” 

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. “But won’t most of your side be wolves? Isn’t that an unfair advantage? You can hear heartbeats.” 

Erica waved her hand dismissively. “It’s a game, we don’t use our abilities to cheat, where’s the fun in that? Ask your friends, it’ll be fun times. We have loads of games, and it’s always a riot.” 

Stiles nodded slowly. Honestly, it _did_ sound fun. The only game they’d brought on their vacation was cards, because it was easier to travel with. But it sounded like the pack Derek belonged to held games like this regularly, from what Erica was saying. They probably had a lot of different things they could do, and if Stiles convinced the others to go, it’d be more fun for everyone. He’d be spending time with his friends, and also meeting new people, which was always a plus. 

“I’ll ask my friends, see what they think.” 

“Awesome.” Erica grinned ferally. “Well, I’m going home to bed. Hope I see you tonight.” 

He nodded and offered her a small wave, and then watched Derek glare at her the entire way back across the lobby. He looked a little disheartened, like he felt betrayed somehow. Stiles just smiled to himself about it and went back to reading his book. 

It was really good, and engaging. He was so engrossed that he missed Scott and Allison’s approach until they were literally right on top of him. The others had all woken up and were getting ready for breakfast, so the two of them had come down first to secure a table since it was nine by now and the place was beginning to get busier from the morning crowd. 

Stiles had already had breakfast, but he couldn’t say no to second breakfast. And now he felt like a Hobbit, because he wouldn’t mind multiple meals a day, if he was honest. 

While they sat waiting for the others, he told them about the invitation that had been extended to them. Scott was hesitant at first, but Allison was all for it and anything Allison wanted, Scott wanted, so he agreed it might be fun. When the others showed up and he relayed the invite, they were split on how they felt. Kira and Danny were interested, but Lydia and Jackson thought it sounded childish and stupid. Matt said he was in as long as Stiles was, which just had him gagging behind his menu. 

In the end, everyone agreed to it, though Stiles felt like Lydia and Jackson mostly decided to go because it beat doing nothing in the hotel room. Besides, both were fiercely competitive, so he was sure they’d have fun even if they pretended they wouldn’t.

After breakfast, everyone headed back up to grab their coats and gear—or in Stiles’ case, to drop _off_ his coat and other items. They left soon afterwards, Danny forcibly dragging Matt out, and Stiles grabbed a mocha from the hole-in-the-wall café before reclaiming his usual spot by the window and reading the book Derek had lent him, sipping at his drink. 

When a shadow loomed over him, he was ready to get his hackles up, thinking it was Matt, but the voice that reached him was very distinctly _not_ Matt. 

“Hello. Stiles, wasn’t it?” 

His head snapped up and even though he’d never met this person in his life, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was Derek’s mother. He hadn’t gotten a good look at her when they’d stopped at the house the day before, but they had the same dark hair and features, and he kind of saw Derek’s smile in hers. Or he supposed her smile in Derek’s? Either way, he knew it was his mom. 

“Hello. Hi.” He hastily stood up to shake her hand, realized he had no hands free, and turned to quickly put the cup and book down, effectively losing his page, but whatever. He faced her again, holding one hand out. “Hi, yes. Stiles. Is me.” 

She looked amused at how flustered he was and shook his offered hand. “I’m Talia Hale, Derek’s mother.” 

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“And you. I do hope my son’s been behaving.” 

“Oh yeah, he’s been amazing.” Stiles realized she was probably just making sure Derek wasn’t making Stiles hate the place and write a bad review online. Or maybe she was going after the weakest member of the McCall pack to suss out the threat level.

They were just there for vacation, no territory disputes here! 

“I’m glad to hear it. I’m sorry about the mishap the other night.” When Stiles frowned in confusion, she said, “Your adventure through the forest?” 

“Oh! Yeah that was—entirely my fault, actually. If Derek hadn’t found me, I’d have been—well, doesn’t matter. I appreciated his help, and he was really nice for letting me crash at his place. I know how uh, some people feel about that.” If Erica knew Stiles was aware of him knowing about Werewolves, he was fairly certain Derek’s mother did, too. But it wasn’t like earlier this morning, where the lobby was empty, so he had to be more careful with what he said.

“I’m glad he was able to help. Perhaps a bit more care in the future?” she asked with a small smile. She sounded pleasant, but stern at the same time, like she wanted him to be more careful. 

“Yeah, no, of course. No more midnight strolls through the woods, promise.” 

“You can stroll through the woods whenever you please, I just meant it may be beneficial to have someone who knows the area along with you.” 

Oh good! Derek’s mother didn’t hate him for being an idiot to almost die at her resort, that was nice. And to be fair, he definitely wasn’t going to go back out there without Derek, at least. 

“I’d definitely like another look around in the daytime,” he admitted. “Actually, I have a fly-over scheduled for tomorrow that I’m looking forward to.” 

“How lovely.” Talia smiled. “I think Derek might have this Thursday off. He has a thing about heights. You understand.” The knowing look she gave him made it clear that, yup, she knew he was aware of the Supernatural. She was evidently referring to Werewolves and their dislike of being off the ground. Scott was a wreck every time he got on a plane. So was Jackson. It was a miracle they got either of them to go anywhere, really. “He so rarely spends time enjoying the view from above. If you’re amenable, perhaps he could join you.” 

“Sure,” Stiles said immediately. “I was going to go alone, so if he wants to come, I’m more than happy to spend time with him.” Stiles was really starting to feel more and more like he was an anomaly and that Derek didn’t often make friendly with people. His friends and family seemed to be trying to capitalize on his presence to make Derek actually go out and _do_ things. And he didn’t mind, not one bit. He was bored and alone, anyway! And he liked Derek, he was interesting. A little quiet sometimes, but Stiles spoke enough for the both of them anyway.

And honestly, he really liked that Derek _listened_. Like, he didn’t just sit there and zone out while Stiles spoke, he actually paid attention to him and commented on things he said. Not many people did that, and it made Stiles really appreciate this weird friendship they’d developed. 

“Derek tells me you had an idea for the resort,” Talia said, and when she moved to take a seat, Stiles hastily picked up his book and mocha before sitting down as well. “I thought instead of hearing it from him, perhaps you could explain what you were thinking.” 

Stiles had an idea for the resort? What idea? “I’m—what?” 

“Something about a library?” 

“Right!” He’d totally forgotten about that. He spoke a lot so things slipped his mind. And this was, yet again, another example of Derek listening to him whereas someone else likely wouldn’t. 

It wasn’t really a complicated idea, and he was sure Derek had already told her about it, but Stiles indulged her and explained what he and Derek had been talking about the night before. He didn’t go into detail about his injury, just mentioned that he had one which was why he was stuck inside all day, and that while he’d love to do more activities, he had to watch his budget. She listened while he explained the general idea, and he was kind of struck by how similar to Derek she was in this moment. 

She listened as attentively as he did, and she never interrupted him. She waited for him to finish what he was saying before asking a question or making a comment, and he found he really liked the Hale family. They seemed like really good people, and he appreciated that they didn’t dismiss his ideas as quickly as a lot of other people in his life did. 

When he was done explaining the basis of his idea, Talia checked the time, and then stayed with him for a while longer, asking him general questions about his trip and what school he went to. She wasn’t prying, just more interested and curious. Kind of like a parent sussing out their child’s new friend to make sure they weren’t a bad egg. 

Stiles figured she was just trying to get a read on him to make sure he wasn’t a risk to her pack. That he and his friends were honestly just there for a vacation and not trying to cause trouble. He supposed if they knew about Kate, it made sense. They’d probably be a little hesitant to have Stiles hanging around with Derek so much if he could turn around and stab him in the back. 

After a long and rather interesting conversation about the way the resort got their food delivered, Talia checked the time again and said she had to head out to teach a class, but that she hoped to catch up with him again soon. 

“I’m here all week,” he said with a small smile. “Literally, like, right here. This is officially my spot.” 

“I’ll be sure to have a ‘reserved’ sign made for you,” she said with a small, teasing smile, and Stiles couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “I believe Derek’s lunch time is coming up. If you’re interested, his father is making burgers. You’re welcome to join him if you’d like.” 

“If he’s down for me crashing his lunch break, sure.” Stiles nodded. “I don’t want to bug him _too_ much, I’ve already been a huge break in his routine.” 

“I think Derek needed a break in routine,” she said, a little too honestly. “I’m sure he won’t mind you joining him. It was nice chatting with you, Stiles.” 

“You too,” he said with another huge smile, and waved when she headed out. 

He wondered what Derek thought of the lengthy conversation he’d been waving with his mother and shifted to glance over at him. There was another dude working with him today, that Jessica girl evidently having the day off. He was a good looking guy, but nowhere near as attractive as Derek. Stiles felt like not many people could be more attractive than Derek, if he was honest. 

Idris Elba was a fucking smokin’ dude. And Oscar Isaac was pretty hot. But aside from that, Stiles couldn’t think of anyone more attractive than Derek, which was saying something given the other two men were famous actors. 

Bottom line, Derek was a super hot dude, which explained why he always got hit on. Somehow though, Stiles found it more annoying to witness today than yesterday. He felt like a part of him hated it because he understood all too well—thank you, Matt—what it was like to have unwanted attention, especially in a situation like Derek’s where he was working and had to play nice. Another louder part of his brain was actually annoyed because... Well, these people didn’t _know_ Derek. What if he was taken? What if he _married_? 

Sure, Stiles acknowledged that he’d hit on him upon reaching the front desk himself, but he’d offered a cheesy pick-up line and had basically made it clear he was just joking. No way someone like Derek would be interested in him, so it had mostly been in good fun—though now he _did_ kind of regret it and vowed never to do something like that again. 

He didn’t know, but somehow, seeing the two girls at the counter giggling and chatting it up with Derek, when they were _clearly_ done being checked-in, was annoying. Derek was working, and he had things to do, and it was obvious he was just smiling and trying to be polite because it was his job, but he probably wanted them to walk away so he could drop the fake smile from his face. 

Stiles debated for all of two seconds before standing up. He took his mug and book with him, just in case, but hoped no one stole his spot. He kind of liked that spot, it was near a heater, while also providing a nice view of the hills outside. 

And a nice view _inside_ too. 

Derek was still smiling politely while the girls spoke about their evening plans, clearly hinting for him to ask more questions so they could invite him along. His gaze shifted to Stiles when he saw him approach, but he didn’t look like he wanted Stiles to back off, so he just walked right up to the counter, standing beside the two girls, and beamed at him. 

“Hey babe, you ready for lunch yet? Your dad’s almost done with the hamburgers, and I am _starving_.” 

The girl right beside him seemed startled, and then embarrassed. Her friend just looked disappointed, but neither of them said anything. 

“Just finishing up one last check-in, then we can head out,” Derek said, and the smile he offered Stiles was a bit more genuine. 

“Cool. I’ll be waiting over there.” 

“You always are,” Derek said with a small smirk. Uncalled for, in Stiles’ opinion, he knew damn well Stiles was stuck inside, but he didn’t call him on it and just slapped his book lightly against the counter before heading back for his seat. Thankfully, no one had stolen it. It made sense, most of the people lingering in the lobby were the ones checking in or checking out. A few were taking breaks from the slopes, sipping drinks from the hole-in-the-wall café, but they tended to mill around further in the lobby, like they were trying to keep away from the doors and windows to warm up. 

Stiles fell back onto his cushy seat—for a bench, it was very comfortable, almost like a booth—and then proceeded to finish off his mocha while flipping through the book to find the page he’d been on before Talia’s arrival. He didn’t look up to see if the girls had left, mostly because he was a little embarrassed by his own actions. 

About five minutes later, a shadow loomed and he glanced up, Derek arching an eyebrow at him while wearing his coat. “Babe?” 

“What? I was just trying to help.” Stiles affected his most innocent expression and Derek snorted, clearly not buying that for a second. 

“We’re a little early for lunch, but apparently I’m being ordered onto a plane tomorrow, so might as well talk to dad about that before then.” He eyed Stiles briefly, then shrugged out of his coat, holding it out to him. “Here. It’s a short walk, and I’ll survive the chill better than you will.” 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you just got a hard-on for seeing me in your clothes,” Stiles teased, grabbing the jacket while getting to his feet. Derek said nothing while he shrugged it on, taking the mug from the bench and bringing it back to the café. Stiles shoved the book into one of the over-large pockets, then he and Derek headed out of the resort so they could walk the short distance to the Hale house. 

Stiles noticed Derek had switched out his black, polishable shoes for his boots, and he wondered how often Derek changed clothes in a day considering he apparently usually jogged to work in the morning. 

As they climbed the back steps to Derek’s old home, it occurred to Stiles that he’d met Derek’s mother, and was now about to meet his _father_. 

“Our relationship is progressing so fast,” he teased to Derek, pretending to fan himself. “I don’t think I’m ready.” 

Derek rolled his eyes, sliding open the glass door that led directly into the kitchen from the back patio. “We cuddled together half-naked after basically knowing each other for five minutes, don’t talk about ‘moving too fast.’” 

“Why Derek Hale.” Stiles slapped a hand to his chest, smirking mischievously. “Are you _hitting_ on me? Are you insinuating you want _more_ than this wonderful friendship we’ve been developing over the past two days?” 

“Get in the house before I leave you outside to freeze,” was Derek’s evasive response. 

Stiles just grinned and stepped over the threshold, honestly wondering if he was going to have some kind of vacation romance like he’d been joking about with Scott on the way up the mountain. 

* * *

Derek felt like he was being punished, because that was the only explanation for why he was the one tasked with meeting up with Stiles and his friends to bring them to Laura’s. 

Okay no, honestly, it was probably because Derek and Stiles knew each other, and Derek was the only one who’d stayed at the resort after his shift because he and Stiles had ended up going to the village to wander around and chat some more. They even ended up having dinner together, and had then proceeded to buy additional snacks from the store for their evening activities. 

Of course, because he was still _there_ , and he knew how to get to Laura’s, he was the one who ended up having to lead the way there. Which would be fine, except for the fact that he didn’t like people, and he was now being forced to shepherd a group of them through the forest. 

On top of that, he had to bring his snowmobile, because he didn’t want to leave it at his parents’ overnight in case he needed it. He didn’t know _why_ he’d need it, but just in case. So he’d have to drive it super slowly through the woods while the others traipsed along beside him, and having unfamiliar wolves at his back was making him feel nervous just thinking about it. 

Not to mention Kate Argent’s niece. Sure, Stiles made her seem nice enough, but Derek was forever going to be suspicious of any and all people with the last name ‘Argent.’ 

Shifting his weight uncomfortably in the lobby, he heard Stiles approaching long before he saw him, his voice carrying from the elevator while he told them about all the snacks he’d gotten for everyone. They were already in the compartment under the seat of Derek’s snowmobile, since he’d gone to get that while Stiles had been corralling his friends. 

When the elevator doors opened, Stiles was the first one out and he grinned at Derek before making his way over to him, bouncing slightly like he was excited. Derek managed to keep the endearing smile off his face by sheer force of will. 

“You look like a bunny,” he informed him once Stiles had stopped in front of him. 

“If I hop around the lobby, are you gonna chase me?” he asked with a wink. 

_Maybe,_ Derek thought, but said, “No, I’d have you committed.” 

“Yeah, we tried to have him committed a few times. Didn’t work,” one of his friends said with a grin. He had his arm wrapped around a girl’s shoulders, and Derek recognized both as Scott and Allison from the pictures Stiles had shown him. He was right when Scott held his hand out to him. “I’m Scott.” 

“Derek,” he said, shaking it briefly, then taking the girl’s when she extended it as well. 

“Allison. Don’t hold my last name against me, I promise my aunt’s a bitch and we don’t associate with her.” 

He just nodded once, not really knowing what to say to that. The rest of the group introduced themselves, shaking his hand. Matt was last and offered him a condescending smile, his handshake loose and fleeting, like he was disgusted to be anywhere near someone like Derek.

As if he wasn’t standing literally shoulder to shoulder with another Werewolf. 

“Shall we go?” Stiles asked, clapping his hands together. “I’m excited to play with a huge group of people, it should be really fun.” 

“Erica and Isaac get competitive, so it’s not _that_ fun,” Derek insisted. 

“Lydia and Jackson too, so this should be _really_ fun,” Stiles countered, bouncing past Derek and turning to walk backwards while grinning. He was really playing up the hopping bunny thing now, it made Derek want to tackle him into the snow when they got outside. 

He didn’t, but it was a near thing. 

When he got to his snowmobile and started to climb on, Stiles stopped beside him, eyes bright. “Hey, can I drive it? I’m doing the snowmobiling thing next week but I’ve never actually been on one. Or, driven one since, you know.” He motioned Derek. 

“Sure.” Derek climbed back off, motioning for Stiles to go for it. He climbed on, looking excited, and Derek motioned the starter, then gave him quick tips and pointers on the steering. He felt someone come up right into his space, tensing instantly at the proximity, but relaxed slightly at the words he heard. 

“You know, maybe you should just—climb on behind him.” Danny offered him an innocent shrug. “Stiles is kind of accident-prone, he might drive it right into a tree.” 

“Hey!” Stiles insisted, insulted. 

“I’ll be sure to mention that to my sister for next week,” Derek said with a small smirk, but he climbed on behind Stiles anyway, reaching around him to get it started up and making Stiles put his hands where they needed to be. 

“Can we go?” Matt asked, clearly unhappy. “It’s fucking cold.” 

Derek turned to look at him, pleased at how jealous he seemed to be, and very deliberately rocked his hips forward in the guise of shifting closer to Stiles. That had Stiles accidentally floor it forward a few feet before he managed to get the machine to stop, and Matt’s face darkened. Derek just smirked, feeling like the night might not be a total bust after all. He was going to enjoy this game with Matt. 

Turning the snowmobile around slowly, Derek motioned the direction they needed to be heading in, and they set off together as a group, the others walking through the trees where the gaps were smaller while Derek and Stiles manoeuvred through the larger areas to fit the machine. 

Laura’s place wasn’t far from the resort, about twelve to fifteen minutes on foot, so they made it there relatively quickly. It looked like the others had all arrived so Derek motioned the front door while he got Stiles to drive around the back to park beside Laura and Jason’s own snowmobiles. 

“You guys have a lot of snowmobiles,” he said once they’d turned off the engine and climbed off, Derek grabbing the snacks. 

“Only in the winter. It’s easier and faster to get around when running isn’t an option. We put them away for the summer and take out our ATVs instead. Though Cora lives close to the stables, so she tends to use horses during the summer.” 

“How does that work?” Stiles asked curiously, following Derek around the house to the door. “The whole Werewolves thing. Don’t animals hate you guys?” 

“We make them nervous, but the horses grew up with us around, so they don’t really know to be afraid of us. It’s like when you see all those zoo animals with service dogs and whatnot. Both animals are comfortable with one another because they grew up together so they don’t know to be nervous. The horses are like that with us, though I’m not really much of a horse person.” 

“This place must be really fun in the summer,” Stiles said, looking around while Derek pushed open the front door of Laura’s home. “The snow is nice and all, but it’s probably gorgeous when the trees are in bloom.” 

“It’s fine,” Derek said, which earned him a snort from Stiles, the two of them stepping into the front hall.

It was already littered with boots and coats, and the two of them added to the piles. Laura’s place was bigger than Derek’s, this cabin having been built to accommodate a large group of friends. Laura wanted a family, so it made sense for her to get a bigger one, and it worked out well for nights like this, where a group of people would be hanging out together. 

They’d never had _quite_ as big a group as this before, considering both comprised of eight people, but it looked like Laura and Jason had just shoved all their living room furniture against the wall and laid out some blankets and pillows in the middle of the room to accommodate the larger crowd. 

When they walked in, everyone was still in the midst of introductions, and had to partially start over since Stiles had missed the beginning. Laura ended up handing out red solo cups and a sharpie for everyone to write their names on, just to make life easier. Stiles spent entirely too long writing his name in an elaborate font, which was kind of funny when considering he was probably the only person everyone in the room would remember. 

Stiles’ friends evidently wouldn’t forget him, and Laura hadn’t shut up about Stiles since yesterday so Derek’s side all knew him, too. 

The humans were given some alcohol—after Laura legitimately checked IDs to confirm ages, despite Stiles partially covering his so they couldn’t see his name because apparently it was embarrassing and ‘Stiles’ was a nickname—and the wolves grabbed some aconite-laced pop and juice. 

“I didn’t know this was a thing,” Scott said, looking down into his solo cup and sniffing suspiciously. “Are you sure this is okay?” 

“We only laced it a little bit,” Laura promised. “Just to give a bit of a buzz. It’s supposed to be similar to being tipsy as a human.” 

“Huh.” Scott squinted into his cup, then shrugged when he saw the other wolves drinking without concerns and took a tentative sip. 

They all started settling in their huge circle, the snacks and more alcohol in the centre for easy access. Stiles fell down beside Erica, the two of them having started a conversation about some show they were apparently both watching and seeming uninterested in pausing while everyone else got organized. 

Derek made a bee-line for him and practically hip-checked Matt out of the way to grab his other side. That earned him a scathing look and Derek just smirked while rubbing salt in the wound, leaning heavily over Stiles to join the conversation, saying something to Erica about a show he honestly hadn’t even heard of. 

Stiles didn’t seem to mind the proximity, something Matt noticed and was very obviously annoyed about. The only downside was that he ended up snagging the spot right across from Stiles, so that meant he would be stuck looking at the asshole the whole night. 

“Okay,” Laura said loudly, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “First off, does everyone know how to play the game?” 

There were some nods and grunts, confirming the room at large had played the game before in some capacity. Apparently Matt had only ever played it as a game called ‘Mafia,’ but the rules were basically the same. 

One game master, moderator, narrator, whatever people wanted to call them knew everything about the characters, and everyone had to close their eyes at ‘night’ while the action unfolded. During the day, after someone’s death by Werewolf mauling, the villagers had to attempt to weed out the Werewolves and lynch them. If the game ended with a Werewolf standing, then the Werewolves won. If the villagers ended up surviving to the end, then they won. 

“Cool. I kept in all the special cards except the village drunk, because that one’s boring, but I pulled out enough cards for us to have a good game. I figure I’ll be the game master for the first round, then we can draw straws or something for the other rounds. A reminder to the Werewolves at large,” she spun in a circle, pointing a finger at them all, “ _no_ cheating. This is all in good fun, so keep your ears to yourself. When we’re bored playing this, we can move on to other things.” 

“We should do truth or dare,” Cora insisted with a mischievous grin. “We have enough people to make that _really_ interesting.” 

“The last time we played truth or dare, half my living room got destroyed,” Jason said, beer bottle at his lips, “so, no.” 

“Spoilsport.” 

“We can decide on other games later. For now, we play!” Laura shuffled the deck of Werewolf cards while walking a slow circle around the group. She stopped in front of Boyd, holding the deck out for him, and he grabbed the top card. She moved around the circle clockwise for everyone to grab a card and when Derek got his, he sighed. 

Werewolf. He was so bad at being a Werewolf. Which was ironic, considering he _was_ one. Once all the cards had been distributed, Laura went back to her seat, picking up her drink and sipping at it to give everyone time to figure out how they wanted to play their parts. Derek glanced at Stiles, who’d put his card face-down on the floor, and was drumming the fingers of his right hand overtop it, looking pensive. 

“All right! Everyone go to sleep.” 

Derek obediently closed his eyes, and when Laura called for the Werewolves to wake up, he opened them and looked around. Stiles grinned at him from right beside him, and slowly raised his hand to denote he was the Alpha. Derek couldn’t help smiling back, and then looked to see who the last werewolf was. 

It was his friend Danny, and the three of them tried to pantomime who to kill before being put to sleep for the Seer to wake up. 

The round lasted a fairly long time, with lots of arguing and yelling that only got more dramatic as the humans got tipsy and the wolves overindulged in aconite-laced drinks. The Werewolves won the first round by the skin of their teeth, and Derek was fairly certain it was because of Stiles. He was an exceptionally convincing liar when heartbeats were kept out of the overall equation. 

The second round, Derek was the Seer and he died on the first night so he got to watch the game unfold as a bystander. Stiles was the Witch in this round, and managed to poison a Werewolf, which allowed the villagers to win the second round. 

The last round they played ended in a tie, since the end result was one villager and one Werewolf. The villager couldn’t lynch the Werewolf without a second vote, and the Werewolf couldn’t kill the villager until nightfall, which wouldn’t come without someone getting lynched. Stiles was a Werewolf again, and Derek was starting to feel like he was _really_ good at these kinds of games. 

He’d probably do well playing _Jackbox Games_. 

They couldn’t decide on another game to play by the end of the third round, and it was getting late. Most people had work the following day—not Derek, thankfully—and most of them were ‘happy’ from all the drinking they’d done, so it was safer to call it a night. 

“This was super fun,” Stiles said to Laura with a huge grin. “Thanks for letting us come!”

“It was definitely more fun with a bigger group,” she agreed. “You’re welcome any time.” 

Derek waited for the group to get organized and once they were outside, Erica and Boyd offered to take everyone back to the resort, since they had to head back that way anyway for their car to go home. Derek nodded his agreement, since it saved him from back-tracking, though he was kind of disappointed at losing out on more time with Stiles. 

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” Derek said to him. “We can meet at the airfield. Or in the lobby, if you’re not sure how to get there.” 

“I _am_ prone to getting lost in the woods when you’re not around,” Stiles insisted, despite that literally having happened only once. 

“True,” Derek said anyway. 

Stiles rocked on the balls of his feet, hands in the pockets of his coat and turning to look at his friends, who were chatting amongst themselves and waiting on him. Matt was staring at them exceptionally hard. Derek just stared right back up until Stiles faced him again, licking his lips. 

“Hey, you still have my pie.” 

Derek blinked, staring at Stiles’ big brown eyes. Was he... asking what he thought he was asking? 

“I do,” he confirmed. “I do have your pie. Did you—want some pie?” 

“You know, I think I might want some pie.” Stiles beamed at him, looking ridiculously pleased. “If you’re okay with me coming over to have pie.” 

“It’s your pie, you’re definitely welcome to have it whenever you want.” 

“Isn’t it a little _late_ for pie?” Matt asked coldly, clearly having been eavesdropping. “We should really be heading back.” 

“Nothing wrong with a late night piece of pie,” Derek offered, smiling at Matt. It was all teeth, and he tried to make it as menacing as possible, a very clear, “Back the fuck off, buddy.” 

Matt didn’t seem entirely deterred, though he didn’t say anything else, grumbling under his breath and turning away while Stiles twisted and called out to Scott. 

“I’m gonna grab some pie at Derek’s. See you later?”

“Sure man, text me.” Scott raised one hand in farewell. “Nice meeting you, Derek!” 

“You too.” 

They both stood watching the group head out, Matt checking over his shoulder a few times, as if waiting for Stiles to change his mind and catch up. He didn’t, standing beside Derek with his hands in his pockets while the others disappeared from sight. 

Once they were definitely out of range, and Cora and Malia were coming out of the house, Derek smirked at Stiles, who looked a little sheepish. 

“Sorry for inviting myself over.” 

“It’s fine. Matt’s face was worth the annoyance of your company.” 

“Lie,” Cora teased on her way by, poking at his arm. Derek turned to slap at her and she smacked him back. He took a huge step to whack at her again, but she twisted out of reach and he was too lazy to go after her any further. 

“Siblings seem great, so glad I don’t have any,” Stiles said with a laugh. 

“Yeah, bane of my existence,” Derek agreed with a sigh, moving around the side of the house. Cora and Malia lived close enough to walk, so only Derek had his snowmobile. And really, he only had it because of Stiles. Not that he minded, he liked being able to have an excuse to invite Stiles over. 

Or have Stiles invite himself over. Derek was definitely keeping that pie. 

“You’re really good at that game, by the way,” Derek said, the two of them climbing onto the snowmobile, Stiles shifting closer to him and wrapping his arms around his waist. 

“Yeah, it’s all about observation and body language in a game like that, and I’m pretty good at it.” 

Derek hummed his agreement and started up the machine, the conversation on hold for the moment. He was sure they could continue, since Derek could shout for Stiles to hear him, and his own hearing was good enough to hear anything Stiles had to say back, but it was better to have an actual conversation in the comfort of his living room. 

Turning them around, Derek headed back for his place. He went a bit faster than usual, since he didn’t have to worry about groceries or the noise level this time, and he would admit to liking the tight grip Stiles had on him whenever he did a jump, like Stiles was worried he’d go flying off even though Derek made sure not to do anything too over the top. 

When they reached his place, he drove them around back and parked, turning off the engine while Stiles stumbled off behind him. 

“Dude, that was so fun!” Stiles said, grinning brightly and rearranging his tuque from its lopsided position. “I could barely see anything except what the light on your snowmobile illuminated so it was almost like flying blindly through the trees, it was awesome!” 

Right. Night vision. Derek forgot about that a lot. Including now, since Stiles probably couldn’t see anything. 

“Glad you had a good time.” He touched his shoulder lightly so that Stiles could grab hold of his arm and then led the way around to the front. Once inside, he flicked on the light and kicked off his boots, making his way to the end of the corridor and his kitchen. “Did you actually want pie, or was that just an excuse to spend more time with me?”

“I’ll never say no to pie,” Stiles insisted from the door, though Derek didn’t miss the fact that he hadn’t answered his question. 

He cut a slice for Stiles and set it in the microwave to warm up before grabbing some applesauce from the pantry for himself. He had the pie on the counter with a fork by the time Stiles wandered into view, rubbing his hands together before blowing into them. He’d been wearing gloves, but the temperature had dropped over the course of the day. 

“Thanks.” Stiles pulled the pie closer, then paused. “What about you?” 

“It’s not my favourite,” he admitted, spooning more applesauce into his mouth. 

“So what _is_ your favourite?” Stiles asked curiously, cutting through the crust with his fork and popping it into his mouth. 

Derek held up his applesauce in answer and Stiles gave him a, “Fair enough” sort of look. Derek really liked apples. Apple pie was the most amazing thing in the world. Apples, cinnamon, flakey crust, just—perfection. 

It was probably one of the reasons he didn’t mind having Stiles in his space. He smelled like a walking apple pie. That and the forest. Derek couldn’t say he had any problems with that scent lingering on his furniture or his clothes. 

They were both silent for a moment while they ate their respective desserts, then Derek motioned the couch once they were done, leaving the dishes on his counter. They sat and chatted for a while longer, mostly about Stiles’ observational skills, but also about the book he’d chosen and what he thought of it. 

Stiles had wrapped himself up in the blanket again, and Derek felt like he might have to leave that blanket there forever, just to ensure that Stiles did that every time he came over. He was kind of adorable all bundled up like that. 

When Derek’s eyelids began to flag, having had a lot of late nights and early morning, Stiles checked the time on his phone and cursed, scrambling to his feet. 

“Shit, sorry. I keep doing that to you. At least you get to sleep in tomorrow, but still.” 

“It’s fine,” Derek insisted, getting to his feet and stretching. He hesitated, watching Stiles for any cues on how he was feeling, and noting him dragging his feet a little. Not literally, but he was taking his time putting his phone away, fluffing the blanket, looking around for his coat despite it being in the front hall. “Did you... want to stay?” Stiles turned back to him and Derek shrugged. “I’d have to drive there and back again, and I’m meeting you in the morning anyway. We can just... save time. You can stay again, we can have some breakfast and then head out around ten for the fly-over. If you want.” 

“Do you mind?” Stiles asked with a small wince. “I don’t want to impose or anything—”

“You’re not imposing.” 

Stiles offered him a small smile, then nodded once. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. If you’re cool with it, it’s the better option anyway. Like you said, waste of your time to go back and forth all the time, and we both know I can’t be trusted alone in the woods.”

“Definitely not,” Derek agreed. 

“Cool. So just—same clothes for me to sleep in?” 

“Yeah, should be where you left them. Toothbrush too. And if you—I’m gonna shower in the morning, but if you need to shower or anything...” 

“Maybe, yeah. Tomorrow morning or something.” 

“Sure.”

“Cool.” 

Derek felt like this was more awkward than usual. Probably because the other two times had legitimately been due to the late hour. This time, Derek wasn’t working in the morning, he _could_ drive Stiles back, it wasn’t a hardship. He just... didn’t want to.

And Stiles didn’t seem to want him to, either. 

This was both of them actively admitting they wanted to spend more time together, and while it wasn’t a secret given they’d hung out a fair bit the past few days, it somehow seemed more poignant when that ‘hanging out’ literally involved just _sleeping_. 

“Okay, I’ll—bathroom. I’ll go first?” Stiles motioned down the corridor. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Stiles nodded and moved around him to head for the bathroom. Derek didn’t know why, but the air felt _really_ charged all of a sudden and he rubbed at his mouth with one hand in an attempt to get himself under control. 

This wasn’t any different from the past two nights, it was just... an admission on both sides that they wanted to spend time together. That was all. It was _fine_. 

He didn’t know why his heart rate had just picked up. There was no reason for his heart rate to pick up! What was he, a fucking lovesick _teenager_? Jesus. 

Shaking the feeling off, Derek moved to the kitchen to busy himself with putting the dishes away. He set an alarm on his phone for nine to make sure they were both up in time for Stiles’ fly-over, then went to double-check the door was locked. He wondered if having a human in the house was making him more paranoid about safety, because he really didn’t check the door this much when he was by himself. 

Stiles came out of the bathroom before Derek had managed to get back to his room to change, so he grabbed a fresh pair of shorts and then traded places with him. He changed out in the bathroom, brushed his teeth, did his business, and then finished getting organized for the night. When he was done, he went through the cabin to turn off all the lights, checked the door _again_ , and then headed into his room with his dirty clothes, tossing them into his laundry basket while shutting his bedroom door. 

When he looked over at the bed, Stiles was yet again sitting up with his phone on the side that was sort of kind of his. He was probably texting his friends to tell them he wasn’t coming back again, a slight furrow between his brows. 

“Everything okay?” Derek asked, waiting for him to finish before turning off the light. 

“Hm?” Stiles looked up at him. “Oh, yeah, fine. They just had a near miss with Kate apparently. Boyd and Erica took them in around back since she was smoking out front with some guy. Ally’s a little shaken up about it.” 

Derek hesitated. “Do you need to go?” 

“I asked if he wanted me to head back, but Scott said she’s okay and not to worry about it. He’s her boyfriend, so he’s really all she needs. And she’s got Lydia and Kira with her, too. I’ll just grab her something nice from the bakery tomorrow to help cheer her up.” He locked his phone and set it down on the nightstand. 

Derek got the light when Stiles was settled, then plugged in his phone and slid under the covers. Stiles had turned to face him, but Derek wondered what he could see, considering his limited vision. Most places in the city had lights outside, but the woods were dark so it was _literally_ pitch black for him. Stiles likely couldn’t even see his shadowed profile. 

“She deleted her Facebook a few years ago,” Stiles admitted quietly. “Her Instagram too. I don’t know, after everything that went down with Kate, it was like Ally tried to make herself disappear from existence. Like she didn’t want anyone to know who she was, because her aunt was batshit crazy. She was kind of a mess for a while, if I’m honest. I didn’t think she and Scott were gonna make it with how bad things got.” 

“I know what kind of damage Kate can do to people,” Derek admitted quietly. 

“Yeah. I guess—she probably did something to your family too, huh? Since you already knew about her.” Stiles went quiet for a moment. “You don’t have to tell me or anything, but whatever it was, I’m sorry. I saw first-hand how fucked up she is, and the fact that she tried to get her niece killed in an attempt to off my best friend... Can’t say I’m too happy she’s hanging around.” 

“She comes four times a year,” Derek admitted. “She tried to get an in with our family so that she could destroy the business from the inside. She wanted to completely ruin my parents.” 

“Shit, what a fucking bitch.” 

“It’s not murder like your situation, but I don’t know if what happened with Scott and Allison was before or after her attempts here. Given our ages, probably after. She might’ve escalated.” 

“Kate’s dad was a grade A douchebag,” Stiles said. “I think she tried to be like him for a while after he died, but then realized she was going to end up on the wrong end of a rifle and decided to go back to whatever she was trying before. Like with your family. She’s a little unstable, so who really knows. Would be great if we could have her arrested, but it’s hard to makes charges about the Supernatural stick without _outing_ the Supernatural.” 

“Yeah.” Derek rolled onto his side so he could see Stiles more clearly in the darkness. Stiles didn’t seem to be looking at anything, further proving he couldn’t see him, but he kept his eyes open anyway. “She almost got in,” he admitted quietly. 

“Got in?” Stiles asked. 

“To the family. She almost tricked her way into the family.” He paused. “It was my fault.” 

“Nothing is anyone’s fault where she’s involved.” Stiles snorted. “She’s a manipulative, crazy bitch. It’s an all-around bad combination.” 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “She used to flirt with me a lot. Before. I was young, and stupid, and I thought she loved me. My mom was concerned, kept trying to talk me out of being around her too much. I was stubborn and a dick, so I thought she just hated our age gap and was being protective. Kind of found out the hard way my mom was right.” 

“How?” 

“Overheard Kate on the phone, talking about her plans and how naive and easy I was. She wasn’t wrong, in retrospect, but it was a hard pill to swallow at the time.” He made a face. “I was around sixteen when I met her.” 

“Wow, nice to know she’s trying to tick all the boxes,” Stiles said dryly. “Statutory rape, murder, manipulation, hate crimes.” 

“A real winner,” Derek agreed with a snort. “She’s the reason I don’t like people.” 

“Can’t say I blame you, to be honest,” Stiles agreed. “People can be the worst.”

“Not all of them.” 

He saw the corner of Stiles’ lips quirk at that, like he was holding back a smile. “Yeah well, some of us try to be good people. And I’m glad I managed to almost die my way into your life. You’re a pretty cool guy, despite what Erica keeps saying about you.” 

Derek rolled his eyes, because he was no stranger to the multitude of compliments Erica had been giving him the past few hours. But he knew she cared about him, same as he did her. They just had a weird way of showing their affection for one another. He cared about everyone in his pack, even if he wasn’t great at showing it. 

“I can’t say I’m too upset about you almost killing yourself,” Derek admitted. “Emphasis on the ‘almost’ though, because you dying would’ve been bad for business.” 

“Yeah, probably. ‘Stupid teen dies trying to use a shortcut to buy cake from a closed store.’ Best headline ever, to be honest.” 

“Better than ‘Idiot mauled to death by pack of wolves trying to feed his sugar addiction.’” 

“It was not _my_ sugar addiction,” Stiles insisted, pointing a finger in an approximate estimation of Derek’s face. “I had pie. It was the others who wanted cake.” 

“Can’t say I’m too upset they wanted cake,” Derek admitted again. Honestly, there were a lot of things about that first day he couldn’t be too upset about, up to and including Stiles being here for the third night in a row. 

He didn’t know _why_ Stiles kept coming back like he didn’t mind his company, but he was glad for it. 

Stiles was silent for a moment, blinking in the darkness, a pensive look on his face. Then he slowly sat up, Derek arching an eyebrow but not moving. Stiles turned to look down at him—or, where he thought he was, at any rate—and licked his lips. 

“This isn’t just—me, right? Like, I know I joke and flirt and stuff, but this is... It’s not just me, right?” 

Derek stared at him for a moment. At the way his eyes shifted from side to side unseeingly, the way he worried his bottom lip, the steady increase in his heart rate. Stiles looked like the kind of person who didn’t understand his own worth. It was the same thoughts Derek had when he considered how little regard Stiles held towards his own well-being. He cared about other people far more than himself, and for all his bravado, he didn’t seem to think much of himself. 

Sure, he’d flirted with Derek upon arrival, but it was clear he hadn’t expected it to go anywhere. It was like he was used to constantly being overlooked, second best, last chosen, that even now, in this moment, where Derek felt he wasn’t being extremely subtle, even _now_ Stiles _still_ wasn’t sure. 

Shifting so he could sit up, Stiles tried to track his movement based on sound, and started slightly when Derek pressed one hand to his cheek, rubbing his thumb against his skin.

“It’s not just you,” he agreed quietly. “I know we haven’t really known each other very long, but you’re just... I like spending time with you. I want to spend _more_ time with you. You’re fun, and interesting, and if you wanted to spend your whole vacation locked up in my cabin, I wouldn’t say no to that.” 

Stiles’ heart did something weird in his chest and he suddenly looked a little flustered. “Oh. That’s—wow. Yeah see, I’m not used to things working out in my favour, this is kind of new territory for me. All my usual crushes kind of crash and burn and we come out the other side as friends.” 

Derek couldn’t help the small smile at that, thumb still moving lightly along Stiles’ skin. “Can’t say I’m too upset by that.” 

“You don’t seem too upset by much,” Stiles admitted quietly. 

“Maybe I like the idea that other people were too stupid to see your worth.” 

Stiles let out a half-hysterical laugh, and it was actually one of the most adorable things Derek had seen him do to date. He reached up with both hands, finding Derek’s shoulders, then bringing them up to his face, dragging his fingers through his beard. 

“So am I going to play ‘plant the kiss on the Werewolf’ or you gonna help me out here?” 

“That sounds like a fun game,” Derek admitted with a snort. “But maybe some other time.” 

Stiles’ expression faltered slightly, but clearly it was because he misunderstood. Derek was more than okay with playing ‘plant the kiss on the Werewolf’ _some other time_ , but right now, he’d rather they just skip the awkward attempts for Stiles to find his lips in the pitch black and just go right to the actual kissing part. 

So Derek leaned forward, being sure to give Stiles plenty of notice, and brushed their lips together lightly. Stiles still jerked at the action, startled, but it didn’t last long. The second he knew _exactly_ where Derek’s lips were, he dove right in. His hands shifted from Derek’s face back into his hair and he parted his lips in an open invitation, pressing himself closer to Derek. 

Not one to ignore a blatant offer, Derek’s tongue slid past Stiles’ lips, tangling with his, and wow. It had been a while since he’d actually made out with someone. He couldn’t remember the last time he had, and quite frankly, he didn’t want to. Because he didn’t want to compare anything to this right now. 

Stiles fit so _perfectly_ against him, Derek’s free hand snaking around his waist and splaying along the small of his back, pulling him closer. Stiles’ shirt had ridden up a bit so that Derek’s palm was flat against his bare skin, and he suddenly wished they didn’t have that extra layer between them. 

When Stiles pulled back briefly to breathe, keeping their faces close enough that their lips were still touching, like he was worried he’d lose track of where Derek’s were if he shifted away too much, Derek shifted their positions with the hand at the base of Stiles’ spine so that he fell back onto the mattress with Derek on top of him. 

The blankets got tangled between their legs, Derek growling at the inconvenience of it, but he didn’t want to let go of Stiles to deal with it so he did his best to ignore it. Stiles was already half-hard beneath him and Derek rocked down into him, mind going back to a few hours before when he’d done the same thing against him while sitting on the snowmobile. 

A groan slid up Stiles’ throat, swallowed up by Derek’s mouth on his, and Stiles’ legs wrapped around his waist, rocking upwards into him. 

When Derek broke off to bite and suck at Stiles’ neck, another positively _filthy_ groan slid up his throat. It was something Derek hoped nobody else _ever_ heard, because he wanted that sound to belong only to him. 

“Fuck,” Stiles insisted, tilting his head back to give Derek more room to work. “Fuck, I don’t have any spare underwear here, I swear to God, don’t do this to me.” 

The irony of his words was the fact that Stiles was rocking up into Derek almost as hard as Derek was grinding down into him. 

“You can go commando,” he insisted, biting particularly hard at the juncture where neck and shoulder met. He didn’t exactly _mean_ to leave any marks behind, but if they went back to the resort tomorrow and Matt saw Stiles completely _covered_ in marks and hickeys, well, he couldn’t say that would upset him too much. 

Werewolves were territorial, and liked marking their territory. It was no different when that territory happened to be a person, and as long as Stiles didn’t tell him to stop—which he would, _immediately_ —he wasn’t going to worry about leaving behind a few reminders of their evening. 

“Fuck, I hate you!” Derek heard the lie in both his voice and his chest and smirked against his neck. 

“I can fix that problem,” he admitted, licking his way to Stiles’ sternum, then pulling back so he could wrench Stiles’ shirt up to his armpits and sliding his tongue down the centre of his chest. He let his hands slide down Stiles’ sides as he lowered himself, and felt the hands in his hair tightening before one of them left. Stiles’ heart was pounding in his chest like crazy, and Derek honestly wondered if people had been stupid enough to leave someone as perfect as him waiting on the sidelines. Their loss was his gain, apparently. 

Managing to kick the blankets off the end of the bed, Derek licked and sucked his way down Stiles’ body, biting at his ribs on his left side, then his stomach close to his belly button, then tugging his sweats and shorts down a bit so he could leave another mark on his hipbone. 

“Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh fucking fuck!” 

Derek was insanely pleased with the sounds escaping him, and he looked up the length of Stiles’ body at him. The hand he’d pulled back earlier was up over Stiles’ head, gripping the headboard so hard his knuckles were turning white. The other was still in Derek’s hair, tugging almost painfully every few seconds, like he was trying to stop himself from hurting him even though he _wouldn’t_ hurt him. Werewolf and all, he didn’t think Stiles could hurt him too badly by getting overexcited.

It occurred to him how disorienting this must be for Stiles, in a way. He couldn’t _see_ anything, it was almost like wearing a blindfold. All he could really do was take his cues from what Derek was doing, but even that had its limits. Case and point being right now, since he’d lifted his head to look up at Stiles, and thus had left him with absolutely _no_ idea what he was doing. 

Stiles’ chest rose and fell rapidly and he arched his back, left leg bending slightly and pressing into Derek’s side. Well, he wasn’t going to let Stiles suffer for long, that would be cruel, and honestly, Derek was really enjoying the view.

Maybe he should be thanking Heather for her poor decision to tell Stiles about the shortcut. He didn’t think they’d have ended up here otherwise. 

Derek’s hands were already gripping the sides of Stiles’ sweats and shorts from having bitten at his hipbone, but he tugged them down slowly, watching Stiles’ face the entire time, and enjoying the expression flitting across his features. 

He kept tugging and tugging all the way until Stiles’ dick was freed, slapping back against his abdomen, which had the hand on the headboard tighten even further. Derek pulled the pants down a bit further to about mid-thigh, then bit at the inside of Stiles’ left one without warning. He jerked at the action, breathing kicking up a notch, but all Derek could smell rolling off him in waves was arousal. 

“You’re gonna have so many marks when I’m done with you that everyone will know who you belong to,” Derek said against the bite he’d just given him, licking at it a moment later. 

“Fuck me,” Stiles groaned, jerking his hips up desperately for friction that wasn’t there. 

“Not tonight.” Derek swiped his tongue along the bite once more, wanting to soothe the pain somewhat, and sat up to reposition himself a bit better. He paused while doing so, staring down at Stiles, because he was _quite_ the sight to behold. 

With his shirt rucked up to his armpits, bite marks littering his neck and torso, and his pants halfway down his legs, his cock flat against his stomach and drooling pre-cum. This was a sight Derek honestly felt like he could get used to. 

His wolf was growling possessively in the back of his mind and he felt his eyes burn as they flashed, drinking in the sight. He quite enjoyed seeing his marks all over Stiles. He felt like he might want to give him a few more before the night was through. 

First though, he had something he needed to follow through on, and his eyes shifted down to Stiles’ dick again. Shifting back on the bed on his knees, Derek pressed his hands against Stiles’ hips and bent down, licking a stripe up his cock. Predictably, Stiles tried to jerk his hips upwards, but Derek held them firmly to the bed. 

“Oh fuck,” he moaned. “Fuck, Derek.” 

Oh yeah, he _really_ liked Stiles saying his name like that. He sounded wrecked and desperate and his voice was all husky and sexed out. Derek definitely wanted to hear more of that right now. 

The hand in his hair had briefly left him when Derek had sat up, but it came back now, twisting in the strands and tugging almost insistently. Who was Derek to deny Stiles something he so desperately wanted? It would be rude. 

Keeping one hand pressed against Stiles’ left hip, he brought the other up to grip his cock, pumping it agonizingly slowly a few times _just_ to make him squirm before licking up the length of it once more and sucking on the tip. 

Stiles’ hips stuttered again, but not insistently, more in reaction to what had just happened. Derek let his tongue dip into the slit, collecting the pre-cum there, and then being mindful of his teeth—he honestly didn’t trust himself not to wolf out right now—he slowly lowered his face down until his nose was buried in coarse pubes, a shuddery breath escaping Stiles at the action. 

Swallowing once around the cock in his mouth, Derek sucked hard on his way back up, Stiles bucking slightly and another strangled shout escaping him. He curled his legs slightly, like he wanted to close them around Derek’s head, but managed to resist, planting both feet flat on the mattress and arching his back. 

“Fuck, _fuck_. Oh fuck!” 

Derek was going to tease him about that later. Stiles liked to use that word during sexual encounters, apparently. 

He set a relatively slow pace at first, mostly because he was enjoying watching Stiles squirm. His own dick was painfully hard in his shorts, but he ignored that in favour of making Stiles lose his mind. He really wanted to make this a blowjob Stiles was _never_ going to forget. 

After what was probably an agonizingly long time for Stiles, Derek slowly began to pick up the pace, his free hand moving down to squeeze at Stiles’ balls before moving lower and rubbing his middle finger against his perineum. 

Stiles had turned his head into his raised arm, biting hard at his biceps even as his other hand continued to tug in intervals at Derek’s hair. Derek kept his eyes locked on Stiles’ blissed out face as he continued to bob his head, knowing when he was getting close because of the shift in his breathing and the small, aborted jerks of his hips. 

It didn’t take long for him to get pushed over the edge, Stiles biting down harder against his own arm before ripping his face away from it and arching his back with a shout. It sounded like he’d tried to warn Derek, but hadn’t quite made it, eyes clenched shut and teeth biting into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. 

Derek held him down with his one hand, the other still rubbing at his perineum even as he sucked hard on his way back up Stiles’ cock, most of his cum having gone straight down his throat. He made sure to tongue the slit for every last drop before letting Stiles’ dick slide past his lips, sitting up at the foot of the bed and staring down at him.

He was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and had brought the one arm over his eyes as he struggled to breathe, chest rising and falling rapidly. It looked like he was trembling slightly, but whether that was from the intense orgasm, the cold, or both, Derek wasn’t sure. He liked to think he’d literally sucked Stiles’ soul out of his dick though. 

Smirking, he slowly slid his way back up Stiles’ body, biting more marks into his pale skin as he went and licking the hurt away afterwards, all the way up to his collarbone. He left a particularly dark hickey there, just because he could and Stiles didn’t stop him, then kissed him again lightly, Stiles’ lips slightly parted as he continued his attempts to breathe. 

Derek’s shorts felt sticky and uncomfortable, and when he glanced down, he realized that at some point, he’d actually creamed his pants. If he had to guess, it was when Stiles had come, because that had been kind of an overload of... everything. Scents, sounds, the feel of Stiles’ skin, everything. 

“I think I died,” Stiles insisted, lips moving against Derek’s since he was still hovering over him. “I think you killed me.” 

“You’re a pretty hot corpse then,” Derek offered, kissing him lightly again. “And I saved your underwear.” 

Stiles let out a startled laugh at that, letting his arm slide off his eyes, even though he still couldn’t see anything in the dark. “Yeah. I guess you did. If you give me a second to come back to life, I’ll return the favour.” 

“You already did.”

“I—what?” 

Derek had one hand braced by Stiles’ head, the other still on his hip. He shifted the hand on his hip away and slid it into his own boxer-briefs, fingers coming back sticky with cum. He lowered his hand to Stiles’ stomach and smeared it across his skin. 

Stiles jerked slightly, eyes widening before looking down the length of his body unseeingly. “Did you just—did you rub your cum all over my stomach?!” 

“Just making sure people know who you belong to.” Derek kissed his cheek, then the side of his neck. 

“Pretty sure all the hickeys and bite marks are going to be more than enough!” 

“Not to wolves.” 

“The only person who wants into my pants isn’t a wolf!” Stiles paused. “Aside from you, clearly.” 

Derek just hummed his agreement, still running his cum-covered hand along Stiles’ skin, over his stomach, up his sides, across his chest. 

“Is this going to be a thing with you?” Stiles asked after a few moments. 

“Probably.” 

“Hm.” Stiles was silent for a few seconds, then said, “I think I need to start bringing more clothes when I come to your place.” 

“Don’t. I like it when you wear my clothes.” 

“Fine, but fair warning, I _definitely_ draw the line at underwear.” 

“That’s okay, I like you better commando anyway.” 

“You are going to make my life _very_ difficult.” 

Derek just smirked against Stiles’ skin, enjoying their mixed scents and the images of Stiles already burned into his memory. 

“Hope you can keep up, because trust me little bunny, I’m very, _very_ good at chasing.” 

The way Stiles’ heart stuttered in his chest was _immeasurably_ satisfying. Derek had never felt so fucking sated in his _life_.

* * *

Stiles didn’t know why, but things with Derek seemed to be so fucking _easy_. Like, everything about their friendship and pseudo-relationship was just easy. There was no weird awkwardness, no bouts of discomfort, no necessity to explain themselves to each other. 

Honestly, Stiles was _so_ confident in their weird relationship that after their activities and a shared shower where Derek got all handsy again, Stiles told him to stop just because he felt a little over-stimulated and he’d known immediately that Derek would before he even did. He’d asked him to stop and Derek had backed off instantly. 

He’d made it clear it wasn’t about not _wanting_ him—because God he did, he really did—but he was just a little over-sensitive after what they’d done. His legs were barely holding him up, so having Derek try and start something in the shower was going to have him on his ass. 

He’d slept like a rock afterwards, half on top of Derek like always, though he fell asleep like that this time instead of just waking up like that from having shifted around in the night. He kind of hated Derek’s alarm clock for going off, but at least they’d already showered and it went off much later than he was used to when he slept over at Derek’s. 

Said individual hit the snooze button three times before he declared it time for them to get up. Stiles whined about it, but he also had a fly-over to look forward to, so he tried not to be too upset about it. 

He had to borrow another shirt from Derek, and some socks, and didn’t miss the hungry look he got when he pulled the borrowed items on. Derek hadn’t been kidding about liking him in his clothes, Stiles figured it was a wolf thing. He knew Allison wore a lot of Scott’s clothes, but that was mostly because she found them comfortable. Now he wondered if it was actually for the same reason. 

Stiles made breakfast again, since he liked cooking and Derek hated it for some unknown reason. He had a Werewolf attached to his back the entire time, teeth and lips against the skin of his shoulder and neck as he worked. 

When Stiles went to the bathroom before they left, he took a second to inspect himself in the mirror. Derek had really gone to town all over, and he kind of wished he’d gotten a turtleneck this time. Of course, today was the day Derek handed over a soft long-sleeved shirt with a low V instead of a turtleneck, likely because he wanted his work to be visible. 

What a dick.

Stiles didn’t hate it...

They made it to the resort relatively quickly, and then Derek led him out back and through a path in the trees. The airfield was all clearly marked with signs and whatnot, but Derek insisted he didn’t trust Stiles not to get lost. He then used that as an excuse to hold his hand, and while Stiles was annoyed they were both wearing gloves, it was still nice to have Derek’s hand in his. 

He realized, quite embarrassed, that they were about to see Derek’s _father_ when they reached the airfield, and his neck was... not subtle. He felt ready to die when the man’s eyes dipped down to look at it, clearly visible with the shirt he was wearing and his lack of scarf since his coat wasn’t done up all the way, but he thankfully didn’t say anything. 

The fly-over was fucking _amazing_. Stiles kind of wished it was hours and hours long, though he did acknowledge he was up in the air perhaps a _bit_ longer than normal people. Probably Derek’s father trying to indulge him, but a part of him also wondered if it was because he was being a bit of a dick to his son. Derek was practically crushing Stiles’ hand almost the entire time, and Stiles honestly wasn’t sure how much he looked out at the scenery. 

Either way, Stiles enjoyed himself a great deal and was very vocal about it with Mr. Hale once they’d landed again. Derek looked a little green, and seemed more than happy to be back on solid ground, but Stiles appreciated that he’d gone with him, even if it was kind of his mother’s fault. Still, he hadn’t backed out, despite his clear discomfort, so Stiles kissed his cheek in thanks and then dragged him back towards the resort for lunch. 

Predictably, Stiles spent the whole day with Derek. After lunch, Derek drove them both into town in his bomb ass Camaro that was parked in the underground lot of the resort. There was a gated area for the staff who had to drive in, along with all the Hale’s vehicles that they kept there in the winter. During the summer, they parked most of them above ground near the main house, but since they used them far less in the winter, they got to hang out in the underground lot.

Derek drove him around to show him all his favourite places, including the school he’d been to and the various hangouts and ‘fun’ places for teenagers to do stupid teenage shit. Stiles ended up comparing a lot of it to his own home town of Beacon Hills, and they argued the merits of growing up in small towns versus big cities, which was a hard conversation to have given neither of them knew what growing up in a big city was like. 

They had dinner at Derek’s favourite place growing up—it was mostly diner food, but that suited Stiles just fine—and then headed back to the resort. Despite _really_ wanting to spend the night with Derek again, Stiles recognized he’d kind of neglected his friends, so after parking in the lot and heading back up to the lobby, he bid him good night and promised he’d see him first thing in the morning. Derek was working again, and Stiles still couldn’t snowboard, so he was going to take up his perch at the entrance once more. 

When he got back to the room, the others were just about ready to go swimming in the heated pool, Scott having texted Stiles four times about it, which he hadn’t seen because his phone was dead all day on account of him... not having charged it... in a while. 

After telling them to go on ahead, he plugged his phone in, changed out, and then headed downstairs. They were the only ones in the pool, and Stiles stood inside for a long while debating whether or not he wanted to do this. On the one hand, snowball fight in a heated pool. On the other hand, he had to go through the snow and cold winter air to get _to_ the pool. 

Eventually, he sighed and made a mad dash for the water, tossing his towel on one of the heated seats on his way by before cannonballing into the deep-end. He got a few double-takes that he didn’t understand at first, and then remembered he had bite marks _literally everywhere_. Matt looked pissed. Lydia looked smug. Scott just looked happy, like he was glad Stiles was having a good time. 

Such a bro, Scott. Stiles loved the guy. 

They hung out in the pool for almost two hours, Stiles avoiding Matt—who seemed in a bad mood anyway, so that was fairly easy—and when they got out, it was a mad scramble to get their towels and head back inside. Stiles kept his towel around his shoulders on his way back to the elevator, since it covered up a majority of the marks, but he caught sight of Erica leering at him across the lobby and figured the towel wasn’t doing much for him. 

After they warmed up, they headed to the village since it was still early enough and stopped to grab some drinks and goodies from the café Derek had taken Stiles to for lunch. It wasn’t Hayden working, but the guy behind the till was as friendly as she’d been, and they were allowed to sit and hang out until close, chatting and laughing together. 

Matt’s sour mood was kind of a damper on things, but most of them ignored him so it made it easier to just enjoy their time together. After finishing up their drinks and snacks—Stiles got a brownie this time, and it was just _so_ good, fuck—they headed back to the resort. 

The girls were talking about taking a break from skiing the following day, and Stiles tried not to be disappointed about it since the whole purpose of the trip was to spend time with his friends. Still, he didn’t really have much time with _Derek_ , and a selfish part of him insisted he’d rather be spending time with _him_. 

Then again, Derek was working all day, and staring at each other longingly across the lobby wasn’t really a productive way to spend his day, so when they asked him to do an activity with them that he _could_ do, he agreed to it. 

That was how he spent the next day snow-shoeing. It wasn’t exactly his thing, but the girls were having fun, and Jackson ended up tagging along for some reason, so he and Stiles just hung back and chatted about Jackson’s courses while following the group along. And it did Stiles some good to get some exercise, if he was honest, _and_ he spent time with the friends he didn’t see much. He’d have loved to have a few spare moments with Danny, but he seemed to have a Matt attachment, and no thank you. 

They got back late in the afternoon with Stiles positively _ravenous_ , but when he went to check on Derek, he’d already gone to lunch—not because he didn’t want to wait for Stiles, but because he was a Werewolf and they got _real_ cranky when they were hungry—so he just joined the girls and Jackson in the restaurant. It was still a good time, but he was practically counting down the minutes lost with Derek. 

He kept reminding himself Derek was _working_ and thus they wouldn’t really be spending time together, but still. By this point, it had been almost twenty-four hours since they’d last spent time together, and Stiles was really starting to feel it. Which seemed pathetic when he thought about it, but if the way Derek tracked his movements whenever he walked across the lobby was anything to go by, Derek was feeling the same way. 

Stiles went back up to the room with the others, and when Allison and Kira decided to go to the spa again, Stiles stayed behind to play some card games with a reluctant and whiny Jackson while Lydia read magazines on one of the beds. Eventually, Jackson got bored and started watching TV, so Stiles just sat leaning back against the closest bed and tried to read the book he’d borrowed from Derek, despite the fact that he kept getting distracted by the TV.

When the others came back from skiing and showered, Lydia texted Kira and Allison to come back so they could all make dinner together in the suite. 

Stiles went down briefly to find out what Derek’s evening plans were, but he only said he was having dinner at his parents’ place and had no other immediate plans. Stiles asked if he could come and have pie again at his place, and Derek had just smiled and said he’d come back around eight with the snowmobile, since he’d jogged to work that morning without Stiles there to make his breakfast. 

Dinner was in the process of being made when Stiles got back upstairs, Kira and Allison having returned by then. It was nothing fancy, mostly just ready-made meals and some butter tarts, but it was more about the company than the food anyway. Matt was in a bit of a better mood, which was nice for everyone in the room except for Stiles. He didn’t want to kill the happy though, so he tried to be a little less hostile than usual, though he _may_ have made sure to keep a regular T-shirt on so the collar exposed as many of his hickeys as possible. He was a little cold, but it was worth it for the annoyed look that flickered across Matt’s face every time he looked over at him.

Stiles kept an eye on the time, not wanting to be late for Derek, and at half-past seven, Scott nudged him and motioned the door, so the two of them headed out. Scott didn’t say anything while they went down the elevator and once they reached the lobby, he led him towards the back. They didn’t go outside, but they hung out near the door, both of them watching the snow fall through the window, coating everything in a fresh layer of white. 

“You heading over to Derek’s today?” 

Stiles felt guilty immediately, because he hadn’t actually... said anything. That meant Scott had noticed him keeping an eye on the time. 

“Was uh, thinking about it, yeah.”

“Good.”

Stiles arched an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, _good_?” 

“You seem happy.” Scott shrugged. “I know this trip became a little disappointing for you when the doctor said you couldn’t snowboard, and I know it was downright _ruined_ when Matt showed up, so I’m glad you’re having a good time. And you seem to really like him. And he _clearly_ likes you.” He turned to eye Stiles’ neck, then made a face. “By the way, you still smell like his spunk.” 

“Wha—I showered!” Stiles insisted. Seriously, the happy times had happened on Wednesday and it was now Friday, he’d _definitely_ showered at least twice since then! 

“Yeah, that takes a while to come off, especially if it’s rubbed into your skin. Which he obviously did.” 

Stiles shoved at Scott to make him shut up, feeling heat rising up his throat. It also occurred to him that Scott knew this because he’d probably done it to Allison, and _wow_ that was a visual he didn’t need. Bad brain, cease and desist! 

“I feel like I’m being a bad friend,” he admitted quietly, looking out at the snow again. 

“You’re not,” Scott insisted. “You spend all day inside, _alone_ , while we’re out skiing. Derek’s working, so it’s not like you get to spend time with _him_ either. And really, you can spend time with us whenever you want. You see Allison and I literally all the time, you’re visiting Jackson and Danny for Reading Week in February, Lydia’s coming to see us in March, and Kira’s spending all summer back in Beacon Hills with us before she starts job-hunting. It’s not like you’re going to be lacking in time with us, and I mean, we see you off and on during the day.” He looked over at Stiles, offering him a smile. “We’re not upset, you know. We get it. Nobody cares that you’re spending time with Derek.” 

“Matt cares,” Stiles said, smirking a little. Scott laughed and nodded in agreement. 

“Matt _definitely_ cares, but that’s his problem. You wanted a winter romance on this vacation, and somehow you actually managed to bag that.” Stiles snorted, shoving him lightly for the insult, but Scott’s smile fell and his expression turned a bit more serious when he continued. “This thing you guys have, you and Derek... I don’t know man, but I don’t think it’s fleeting. Like, he _looks_ at you, you know? I saw it when we went to play games the other night. And you guys seem really attuned to each other. You’re having actual meaningful conversations, not just talking about the weather or fluffy things that people having a fling would talk about.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, but if this is all the time you guys get, you might as well make the most of it.” 

Stiles pressed his lips together, watching the snow fall a bit more heavily outside. He hoped Derek was okay coming back. He could probably make the trek with his eyes closed, and he _was_ a Werewolf, but still. 

“You’re sure you guys don’t mind?” Stiles asked, slanting a glance his way. 

Scott patted him on the shoulder. “It’s totally fine. We all talked about it, without Matt around, obviously. We’re just glad you’re having a good time, since you were kind of the only one whose vacation got shot.”

Stiles nodded slowly, thinking things over a bit. “It’s not like I’m gonna _live_ there, you know? It’s his place. But if I could like, maybe bring some underwear, at least? In case I stay over kind of thing? And that way Jackson can have the bed to himself.” 

“Yeah, he’s been _really_ enjoying that, you might have ruined our dynamic for our next trip, Jackson’s not gonna want to share with Danny again.” Scott grinned at him and Stiles snorted, nudging him again. 

“I’ll still be here, though. Like, during the day, if anyone wants to hang out, I’ll be here. Just—might spend a few evenings with Derek, is all. He usually has dinner with his parents anyway, so it’s not like I won’t stick around with you guys.” 

“As long as we know what you’re up to, that’s the important thing.” Scott slapped him in the arm again. “What time is he meeting you at?” 

“Eight. For pie.” 

“And probably more than pie,” Scott teased. Stiles just snorted again and shoved at him, the two of them looking out the window once more for a long while. 

When they went back upstairs, Stiles subtly packed his carry-on with a few items, including his phone charger, and when he went down to the lobby to meet Derek, the Werewolf didn’t say anything about it, but Stiles could tell he was pleased. 

Stiles spent the night again, and while there was nothing sexual this time, they stayed up _far_ too late for Derek’s schedule talking, and that more than anything made Stiles feel like Scott was right. 

Whatever this thing with Derek was, it wasn’t exactly fleeting, and the thought of that kind of terrified him. 

But not enough for him to want to stop. 

* * *

“We don’t have to play if you’re not interested,” Derek said, sitting down on the couch with his laptop and setting it up on the coffee table, plugging in the power cord. “You don’t have to let Laura bully you.” 

“It sounds fun,” Stiles insisted. “Besides, I want to see what all the fuss is about. Erica and Cora were whining at me earlier that they need someone to knock you off your pedestal, so we’ll see how much my ADHD and wealth of useless knowledge comes in handy.” 

Derek glanced over at him to gauge his expression, wanting to be sure he _wasn’t_ feeling pressured into this. Laura could be extremely persuasive when she wanted to be, and the last thing Derek needed was for Stiles to have a shitty night because his sister was a bully. 

But he seemed perfectly happy, tapping away at his phone while he read through the rules of the various games available in the _Jackbox Games_ pack. Derek had asked Laura to try and stick to the trivia games or the voting games more than anything else. It would be harder for Stiles to do well or have fun in a game like Fibbage, where it relied heavily on people’s knowledge of one another to be any fun. 

And he _wanted_ Stiles to have a good time. Not only because he deserved it, but also because Derek felt kind of bad for him and how bored he always seemed to be. Stiles had spent the night the day before, and then gone back with him in the morning for the start of his shift. He’d read for a while until his friends came down for a late breakfast and had gone to have brunch with them. Afterwards, he’d basically spent the entire day sitting in the lobby reading, changing positions on his seat so often that Derek was waiting for the time he’d look over and find Stiles hanging upside down in boredom while he tried to read. 

It wasn’t that he thought Stiles found the book boring, but more that he didn’t seem like the kind of guy to sit around. He always seemed to be moving, and not being able to was obviously a struggle for him. But he’d managed, sticking to the book all day and finishing it just before he went to dinner with his friends. He’d joined Derek for lunch hours earlier, though his late second breakfast meant Stiles wasn’t hungry and he just munched on some chips from the café while Derek ate his usual sandwich. 

They’d already agreed to meet up at eight that night in the lobby again, so it gave Stiles time to have fun with his friends at dinner and a bit afterwards, and allowed Derek time with his family—much as he didn’t want to see them right now, since his sisters were _annoying_. At least his dad hadn’t said anything about Stiles’ appearance when he’d seen him on Thursday at the airfield, but Erica had blabbed which was how she and Cora ended up chatting with Stiles in the lobby today, and Laura ended up coming by at some point when Derek hadn’t noticed. 

Derek couldn’t exactly help that he’d gotten carried away. It had been three days since he’d marked up Stiles’ neck—and other places—and most of them were still visible. Well, the ones he wanted people to see, anyway. No one should have caught sight of the ones on his torso and thigh, though apparently Stiles had gone swimming at one point since then so Derek figured more of them had been noticed.

That only made him feel smug though, and he hoped Matt was one of the witnesses. He wanted to make it explicitly clear to him to _back off_ because Stiles belonged to _him_. 

Derek paused in his setup at the thought, his wolf growling happily at the idea that Stiles belonged to him. Except... he _didn’t_ and that seemed like a weird thing to cross his mind. Stiles didn’t belong to anyone, he wasn’t a possession, and Derek would never treat him as one. He had no idea where the thought had come from, but before he could dwell on it too much, his phone vibrated loudly against the coffee table and he snatched it up. 

“What?” 

_“Where are you? You better not be bailing on us, Stiles said he wanted to play!”_

“Stop being so impatient,” he insisted with a scowl, opening Steam so he could load the voice channel. “I’m logging on now, we had to get home.” 

_“Stop making out and hurry up.”_

“We’re not—” He cut off when Laura hung up, muttered about annoying siblings, and dropped his phone onto the cushion beside him on the opposite side of where Stiles was sitting. 

Once Steam was open and Laura invited him to the voice channel, he clicked on it and hoped his laptop microphone and speakers would be okay for this. He normally wore a headset so that the microphone wouldn’t pick up the others’ responses, but hoped there was some kind of programming involved so that it wouldn’t happen. 

“Can you hear us?” Derek asked when the channel loaded. 

_“Hello Stiles!”_ Cora called cheerfully. 

“Greetings room at large!” Stiles said, waving one arm widely while pressing against Derek’s side, looking at the computer screen. “So, this should be fun.”

 _“Only if you manage to beat Derek,”_ Malia insisted dryly. A few people agreed enthusiastically and Derek felt like this was definitely going to be a gang-up-on-Derek sort of night. 

His eyes scanned the players to see who was on today. Erica was working, and he knew Isaac had bailed, but it looked like Jason hadn’t joined in either. So it was just his sisters, Malia, Boyd, him and Stiles. 

_“Trivia Murder Party?”_ Laura asked.

 _“Yes!”_ Cora exclaimed excitedly. _“Let us dethrone the king!”_

“I’m gonna have a _great_ night,” Derek said dryly, but he clicked on the game invite anyway. When the screen loaded, he showed Stiles the website to log into and then the room number. When it confirmed all the players were in, they started the game. 

Stiles had the blanket over his shoulders, like he always did when he visited, but he was leaning heavily against Derek on the couch. Derek joked that he was trying to cheat by looking at his answers, but it was clear Stiles didn’t need _any_ help. 

He and Derek were almost neck and neck the entire game, up until close to the last round. Derek managed to sneak ahead, but just barely, which ended up being moot since Stiles overtook him at the end of the game for the final win. 

His sisters and cousin made a _huge_ deal of Derek being dethroned, as if he’d never lost this game before. 

Okay, to be fair, he’d only lost it _once_. But that had been when he was half-distracted by the TV and they hadn’t considered it a real loss because he wasn’t paying attention. It was kind of nice though, having someone challenging to go up against. Not that his friends and family weren’t challenging—his mother _killed_ them all at this game—but it was still nice having someone like Stiles to go up against. 

They switched games after another round and played a few random ones just so Stiles could see what was available, but still stayed away from ones that required more knowledge of one another. Boyd called it a night around ten-thirty since he had work in the morning, but Derek had Sunday off so he stayed awake as long as Stiles wanted to keep playing. 

By midnight, everyone else decided to call it, since two of them were working tomorrow—not as early as Boyd and Derek usually did, which allowed for later nights—and the last was planning on sleeping until dinner. They bid each other goodnight and then Derek logged out of Steam, shutting his laptop and looking over at Stiles. 

He had a big, tired smile on his face, head resting on Derek’s shoulder but angled up so he could look at him. 

“That was really fun. I didn’t know things like this existed, this would actually be really good for my friends and I. A way to kind of hang out and keep in touch while we’re all split up. Is it expensive?” 

Derek shook his head. “Steam is free to download, and only one of you needs to own the game. There’s like, five or six of them, I don’t remember. Laura has them all, and she’s usually the one who coordinates. Once someone owns it, you can just share the screen and everyone else can log on using their phones, like we did.” 

“Yeah, it’s really cool.” Stiles was staring down at his phone now, the screen showing they’d disconnected from the game because Laura had shut down. “You’re really lucky all your friends are here with you.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed. He had one arm wrapped around Stiles’ shoulders and he let his fingers brush lightly up and down his arm overtop the blanket, watching the action as he did it. “You and yours are in different places, right?” 

“Mm,” Stiles agreed, and Derek noticed he’d closed his eyes, like he was starting to fall asleep against his shoulder. “We didn’t fully split though. It was like—a partial split. We were a bit too worried to completely separate, given our history of bad luck with the Supernatural. Jackson and Danny are at Yale together. Kira and Lydia went to Harvard. Scott, Ally and I ended up at Brown.” 

“Those are all really good schools,” Derek said, surprised. He hadn’t meant to sound _quite_ so surprised, but Stiles mentioned coming from a small town, so it was impressive to hear all those schools listed for so many of the students. 

“Yeah, we had to fight really hard to get into them. Lydia was guaranteed no matter what, she’s a genius. Jackson probably bought his way in, to be honest. The rest of us just studied hard and did what we could to get accepted.” Stiles shrugged one shoulder sleepily. “Worked out in the end.” 

“You’re almost done, right?” 

“Mm. Last semester after the new year.” 

“What then?” 

Stiles was silent for a moment and Derek thought maybe he’d fallen asleep, but then he inhaled deeply and sat up, stretching and rubbing the back of his head. Derek’s hand slid off his arm and the blanket pooled around his waist. When he turned to grin at Derek, he looked ready to pass out. 

“Then I guess I figure out how to be an adult. But that’s future Stiles’ problem. Present Stiles needs sleep.” 

“You know you probably get more sleep than I do, right?” Derek asked with a small laugh. 

“Not all of us like living in a state of sleep deprivation!” Stiles stood, stretching again. “Still can’t believe you wake up _early_ to _jog_ to work.” 

“Haven’t since you’ve been around.” 

“Yeah, because I make your breakfast,” Stiles insisted dryly. 

Derek just smiled at that, because he wasn’t wrong. Having someone to make him breakfast at home was certainly a highlight of this entire relationship he had with Stiles. 

This weird, amazing, somewhat scary relationship he had with Stiles. 

Standing as well and bunching the blanket back up in the corner of the couch, Derek kissed Stiles’ temple before turning him around and giving him a light shove towards the corridor. Stiles obediently went to the bathroom to get ready for bed, shutting the door while he went about his business. 

Derek looked around, but didn’t see anything requiring immediate clean-up, so he just went to his room to change into some fresh shorts while thinking about what to do tomorrow. He wanted Stiles to do something entertaining, and considering Derek had the day off, it was the perfect time for it. He figured maybe he could take him snowmobiling off the beaten path. 

He knew Stiles had one of Cora’s tours coming up on Wednesday, but she couldn’t take them anywhere too far into the woods, and she also didn’t usually go that fast because it wasn’t safe for people without quick reflexes like they had as Werewolves. But if he took Stiles out, maybe they could go further in, do a few of the trails that guests didn’t generally go on. He could bring him up the mountain a bit, since Stiles hadn’t had the chance to do that given he had no way back down. 

It suddenly struck Derek that tomorrow was Sunday. Exactly one week tomorrow, Stiles would be leaving again. The thought had panic spark through him at the idea that he’d never see him again. That this was the only time he’d get with him. While he knew the others were happy he was just making friendly and getting some action, it didn’t _feel_ like that to him. 

He didn’t know where Stiles’ mind was at, but things felt... different. He really _liked_ Stiles, which was something he never thought he’d _ever_ experience after Kate royally fucking him up emotionally. But Stiles was just... different. He made Derek happy, and he liked seeing him in his clothes and in his house and having him in his bed, and marking him, and scenting him and just... 

He liked Stiles. He wanted him to stay. 

He knew he couldn’t, but Derek really, _really_ wanted him to stay. 

“You okay big guy?” 

Derek turned and realized he’d been standing in front of his dresser with his dirty clothes in his hands, not having gotten around to dropping them into the laundry. Stiles was holding his own clothes under one arm, wearing the same shirt and sweats Derek had lent him that first night. Even though Stiles brought his own clothes now, he _still_ wore the pyjamas Derek had lent him, and that made Derek extremely happy. 

“Fine. Just remembered tomorrow is laundry day.” Not that it mattered much for Derek, since laundry mostly got done at work. Satomi Ito always worked Sundays and Derek had a separate laundry bag at work that she always tossed into a machine for him near the end of the day. He never made her do his underwear though, just his shirts and slacks, and he always made sure to show his appreciation for taking care of him. He’d known her basically his whole life since she’d been one of the first people his mother had hired and was an old family friend, so she was kind of used to taking care of a spoiled brat like him.

And his sisters. But mostly him, since his sisters actually did their own laundry... 

Derek _could_ do his own laundry, it was just more convenient having it done at work since he usually only _had_ work clothes there. Besides, Satomi wasn’t shy about making her thoughts known, and while she bitched at him for the state of his clothes sometimes, until the day she said she wouldn’t wash them anymore, he wasn’t going to poke the bear. 

Or Werewolf, in her case. Since she was one. Not part of the Hale pack, but she and hers owned some territory to the north and she’d been friends with his mother for a long time. 

“I didn’t know laundry required such intense concentration.” Stiles was in front of him, rubbing at his forehead where he was probably frowning. “You need help putting clothes in the washer or something?” 

Derek gave him an annoyed look at the cheeky expression on his face. “Work does my laundry, I only wash what I have here. Along with annoying guests’ extras, since you’ve been wearing half my closet.” 

“Ouch,” Stiles insisted with a grin. “See if I take you up on wearing any of your clothes ever again. Maybe I should just take these off.” Stiles tugged at the front of the shirt he was wearing. 

“I wouldn’t say no,” Derek admitted. “But you’d probably be cold.” 

“Not with a Werewolf blanket.” He frowned. “Except then I’d likely get crushed so, human blanket for you it is!” 

Derek snorted, resisting the urge to roll his eyes and just shoved Stiles towards the bed while heading for his door. He dumped his clothes into his hamper, and realized he... actually had a lot of them in there. He supposed it made sense, he hadn’t jogged to work very much since Stiles had started spending the night. It meant he got dressed at home and then _undressed_ at home. Satomi wasn’t going to have very much to wash tomorrow. 

Derek went to the bathroom to get ready for bed, double-checked the door was locked, then went through the house turning off all the lights. Stiles was already under the covers on his side with his eyes closed when he entered the room, and Derek stood in the doorway for a second staring at him. 

Stiles really... _fit_ in his space. Seeing him lying there in bed, Derek couldn’t help but think about how _right_ all of this was. He didn’t know why Stiles was such a perfect little puzzle piece that fit into every hole in his life, but he really wasn’t sure how he was going to react the day he had to leave. 

Shit, maybe Derek wouldn’t _let him_ leave. 

“What’re you staring at?” Stiles’ sleepy voice asked, and Derek realized he’d opened his eyes to slits to see what was taking him so long. 

“Not much,” was Derek’s response and Stiles snorted and shifted under the covers so he could pull one arm out to flip him off. “Telling me to fuck off would’ve been easier,” he informed him, turning off the light and shutting his bedroom door. 

“Too much energy,” Stiles argued. 

“And pulling your arm free didn’t use up any energy?” 

“Shut up,” Stiles groaned, burying his face in his pillow. Derek just smiled and slid under the covers beside him, Stiles shifting over immediately once it was clear he was settled. Derek wrapped an arm around him, pulling him further into his side, and Stiles threw one arm and one leg over him, rubbing his face against Derek’s left pectoral and letting out a slow breath. 

Derek stared up at the ceiling, his hand returning to what it had been doing out in the living room, fingers brushing lightly up and down Stiles’ back this time. He listened to the sound of Stiles’ breathing and heartbeat even out, slowing further and further until it was clear he was asleep. 

Even though he was also tired, Derek couldn’t close his eyes. His mind kept reminding him he didn’t have much time left with Stiles, and he was kind of trying to figure out how to change that. Would it be weird to want this to continue even after Stiles was gone? How would he even broach that topic? He wasn’t exactly Mr. Talk-About-Feelings, but this thing he had with Stiles, he didn’t want to lose it. 

He didn’t know if he’d ever find it again. 

Turning his head slightly to look down at Stiles, he pressed a kiss to the part of his forehead he could reach, then rested his cheek against it, closing his eyes and tightening his hold on him. 

They still had time. He wasn’t going to worry about it just yet. 

They still had time. 

**TBC...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone wanting to know more about the Werewolf card game can find details [here](https://www.playwerewolf.co/). It is HELLA fun.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles felt like time was going too fast. Which was a strange thing for him to think when he spent a majority of his time sitting on a bench in the resort’s lobby, alone, reading. But... he felt like time was going too fast. 

It was like he’d blinked, and the whole first week had passed. He remembered _doing_ things, and he remembered hanging out with Derek, with his friends, playing games. He knew he’d spent time with people and had fun, but it felt like it had passed in an instant. 

Sunday had been fun, given Derek had the day off, and then Monday he was back at work with Stiles sitting in the lobby, but he had Tuesday off, so that had been another full day of hanging out with him. His next day off was Saturday, which—worked out. Since it was Stiles’ last day given they were leaving on Sunday morning. 

He knew it was still half a week away, he still had time with him, but it felt like time was going _so_ fast! He’d been looking forward to his snowmobile outing with Kira, which was being led by Cora, since basically arriving at the resort. But now that he was there, sitting on it, listening to Cora explain to the group at large where they were going and what to look out for, he felt like he wanted this to _not_ be happening. 

Because if it was happening, it was Wednesday, which meant tomorrow was Thursday, and then it would be _Friday_ —yes, Stiles was well aware of the days of the week, but his point was... 

Sunday was looming. 

“You guys should just talk about it,” Kira insisted, fiddling with her controls as if she knew what she was doing. For all Stiles knew, maybe she did, Kira was kind of an enigma to him sometimes despite how close they were. 

Stiles gave her a look and motioned Cora emphatically. Werewolf, with really good hearing, who was the sister of the person they were talking about. 

Kira waved his concerns off. “She’s not listening, she’s busy making sure people are paying attention to her safety spiel.” 

“Yeah, which _we_ should be doing.” 

“It’s not like you haven’t been on a snowmobile every day for the last week and a half,” Kira countered. 

“Not _driving_ it!” Stiles insisted quietly. Which—okay, wasn’t true. Derek had let him drive a few times on Sunday, and he’d also driven them back _very slowly_ to Derek’s place from the resort on Monday. 

“Whatever, my point is,” Kira continued, ignoring that Stiles was _trying_ to pay attention to Cora, “you guys should talk about it.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it with him,” Stiles muttered, then turned to eye Kira slightly. “I don’t even really want to be talking about it with _you_.” 

She gave him another unimpressed look but didn’t say anything in response to that. Which worked out fine, since Stiles didn’t have anything further to add himself. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. When he’d arrived, he’d been thinking about having a hot winter fling. Just meet someone, fool around, have some fun for two weeks and then go back to school, never to think of this person again. 

He wasn’t meant to develop _feelings_. Feelings were the absolute _worst_. Why couldn’t he just be one of those people who fucked without remorse and moved on? 

To be fair, he and Derek hadn’t fucked, so... 

Actually, they hadn’t done anything remotely sexual since that one time. Not that Stiles was complaining, he wasn’t ruled by his dick, and he actually liked that they had really interesting conversations for the most part. They did make out a lot though. Derek was really into biting, which Stiles was surprisingly okay with. 

He figured it was a wolf thing, marking territory and whatever. He didn’t mind, he kind of liked that people knew he belonged to Derek. 

He _especially_ liked that _Matt_ knew he belonged to Derek. 

“Uh oh,” Kira said, Stiles turning to her. She was looking past him so he turned the other way and cursed under his breath. Kira may not have been around when all the shit had gone down, but she definitely knew who was heading their way from pictures and stories told. 

He noticed Cora had stopped mid-sentence, which only proved how much the Hales knew about the bitch who was approaching. She was, thankfully, only on skis which meant she wasn’t joining them on their outing, but Stiles could tell she was making a bee-line right for him.

Fuck. Why was she coming over right now? They’d been doing so well avoiding her, too. 

“I knew I recognized you,” she said, stopping right beside Stiles and offering him a vicious smile. “You’re Allison’s friend, right?” Her eyes shifted past him to Kira, but focussed back on him quickly. She could obviously tell Kira was his friend, but since she hadn’t been around when everything had happened, she likely didn’t know whether or not Kira was a Supernatural or a human. “How’s my niece been doing?” 

“Well, she’s still alive, if that’s your question. Though that’s probably because you’re not in her life anymore trying to get her killed.” Stiles offered her a sarcastic smile. 

“The fact that you think she’d have died only proves how dangerous your little _pet_ truly is,” Kate retorted, still smiling viciously. Stiles felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, because they had an audience, and both of them had to be very, _very_ careful with what they said right now. 

“He isn’t dangerous unless he’s poisoned. You know, like what you tried to do?” Stiles reminded her. “How’s life been for you since getting kicked out of the family, by the way?”

“Profitable.” Kate seemed delighted to be able to share this news with him. “As you can see, I can afford to take regular vacations. There’s no limit to how much people will pay me to get rid of their pest problems.” 

Stiles clenched his jaw, because he so badly wanted to say something back to that, but anything he said would only expose the people he cared about. 

“I’m sorry,” Cora called loudly from the front, her voice positively arctic. “We need to get going, so you’re going to have to clear the way.” 

“Of course, Cora.” Kate offered her another vicious smile and Stiles saw Cora’s lips curl. “Wouldn’t want to impede business, you’re all doing _so_ well.” Her eyes shifted back to Stiles. “I couldn’t help but notice you found yourself _another_ pet. For the record, he was mine first.” 

“No he fucking wasn’t,” Cora snapped, some of the guests glancing at each other. 

“Oh, but he was,” Kate insisted with a pitying look at her. “Gave his whole heart to me _so_ very easily. Because that’s what he’s like.” She glanced back at Stiles. “ _Easy_. Show him a bit of kindness and he’ll roll right over. Have fun with him while you have him, because the next time someone shows him interest, he’ll forget all about you.” 

“Just _leave_ already!” Cora snapped, standing now and looking ready to lose her shit. “We have a schedule!” 

Kate smirked at Stiles while motioning for Cora to calm down, then turned and began pulling herself along the snow with her poles, seeming immeasurably satisfied with herself. 

Everyone was silent for a long while. Someone coughed. Another person shifted on their snowmobile. 

“So I think I’ve got the basics of it!” Kira said loudly with a brilliant smile. “Should we get going? I’m really excited for what you’re going to show us!” 

Stiles winced at how obviously over-enthusiastic she was being, but it seemed to ease a bit of the uncomfortable tension. Cora cleared her throat, apologized to the group at large for her behaviour, but didn’t offer any explanations. No one seemed overly bothered, mostly just confused or surprised, but Cora managed to bounce back relatively well and turned around to get them all moving. 

The entire ride was fun. Stiles had a great time, and once the awkwardness of what had happened with Kate wore off, Cora was back to normal and doing an excellent job of being a tour guide. The overall trek took them about two and a half hours, though Stiles felt like Cora might have gone a bit over in an attempt to make up for what had happened at the beginning. 

After all, she’d _kind_ of shouted the word ‘fuck’ and while everyone in the group was an adult, some people didn’t take kindly to that sort of language. 

When they got back to the resort and Cora got them all to park the snowmobiles around their usual places, she thanked them for being an amazing group and told them to enjoy the rest of their days. 

Everyone thanked her for the great trip and started heading back for the resort. Stiles and Kira took their time getting organized, and when Cora touched his arm lightly when he bid her a good day, he paused. 

“Can we talk?” 

“Sure.” He turned to Kira. “You good?” 

She gave him a look. “The resort’s right there, I think I can manage.” 

Stiles flipped her off and she blew him a kiss in response before turning and waving over her head, calling back that she’d see him in a bit for lunch. Or linner, since it was past two and Stiles was _very hungry_. 

Turning back to Cora, he shoved his hands in his pockets since they were a little cold. He was wearing gloves, but he’d been holding them out in front of him for a long time, so they’d been exposed to the cold for quite a while. 

“What’s up?” 

“That stuff Kate said,” Cora said uncomfortably, “about Derek, I mean. It’s not—they have history, but it’s not what she implied.” 

“I know, he told me.” 

Cora blinked at him. “He told you?” 

“Yeah, a while ago.” Stiles shrugged. “Kate’s a bitch, we both know it. She literally tried to get Scott to kill Allison by dosing him with a weird strand of wolfsbane, so I am no stranger to her vile ways. Even if she’d managed to get that far with Derek, it’d only make me hate her more than I already do.” 

Cora was watching him curiously, like she wasn’t sure she believed him, but he just stared back at her and waited. He was well aware of the fucked-upness that was Kate Argent, so he really didn’t know if Cora was actually concerned that Stiles was going to ditch her brother over something that psycho had said. 

For one thing, again, Kate was fucking batshit crazy and tried to kill her niece. For another, just because Kate hadn’t managed to snag Derek didn’t mean he was unattainable. Stiles had many, _many_ marks proving the contrary. Derek didn’t like _her_ , and that made her angry and bitter. Too bad, so sad, he seemed to like Stiles just fine. 

“Huh.” Cora let her hand drop from his arm. “Okay then.” 

“Why does your family let her come here anyway?” Stiles asked, following beside Cora as she moved to one of the snowmobiles and started it up so she could park it properly. They all seemed to have their little spots, so she likely had to park them all after every run and didn’t trust people to not damage them by plowing straight into the metal bars. 

“Mom was going to stop her from coming back,” Cora admitted, climbing off the one she’d just parked and moving to the next one, Stiles following her. “Dad talked her out of it. Laura and Derek had a long conversation about what Kate did.” She glanced at Stiles. “Laura’s the only person he told, so she’s the only one who knows everything. Or, _almost_ everything, I guess. After they spoke, she talked to my parents for a while without giving up any information. We’re siblings, and we like to shit on each other, but we still care about each other and Kate really fucked Derek up. All I know is they never got physical, which I’m happy about, because he’d be even worse.” She parked the next one and climbed off to move along. “Anyway, after Laura spoke to them, mom and dad had a long conversation and it was kind of decided that if we stopped her from coming, it would be like proving she’d won or something.” 

“Like admitting her presence was too much for Derek,” Stiles said and Cora nodded. 

“Anyway, mom cleared it with Derek and he said he didn’t care. Wolves are proud, so it’s hard for us to back down from a threat. She comes four times a year to like, _tease_ him. To remind him that he was easy to manipulate. He tolerates it because he doesn’t want her to know it gets to him, but we all know it does. It’s why he lives out in the middle of nowhere and why he doesn’t bother making friendly with people.” She turned to Stiles, leaning against the closest snowmobile. “Well, until you, anyway.” 

“Happy to be of service,” Stiles teased, spreading his hands slightly. They were still in the pockets of his jacket, so it only fanned out the bottom of it, but he was sure she got the point. 

“He really likes you, you know,” she said. “I know guys don’t talk about their feelings, or whatever, but I thought you should know.” 

Stiles nodded once, pressing his lips together. He wanted to admit he liked Derek a lot too, but he still didn’t know what the fuck was happening between them so he decided against it. Everything was kind of up in the air, considering he was leaving in four days, and he didn’t want to make things worse for himself. 

“You want any help?” he asked, nodding towards the remaining snowmobiles. 

Cora snorted. “From _you_? Please. I heard you almost floored it into the side of the resort, I think I’d rather do this myself.” 

Stiles pulled his hand out of his pocket _specifically_ to flip her off. She smirked at him, the expression so very like her brother’s, and Stiles just shook his head and wished her a good day before turning to head back for the resort and the man sitting behind the front desk. 

He pulled off his gloves while walking through the front door, eyes straying towards where Derek was. He was staring right back at him, and there was no one at the desk, so Stiles grinned and bounced his way over to him. Derek arched an eyebrow, sitting on his little backless stool with his arms crossed, light glinting off his name tag. 

“You know you’re not a bunny, right?” Derek said in greeting. 

“I could be. You don’t know,” Stiles insisted, leaning forward on the counter with a grin. 

Derek let out a soft breath, like a huff of a laugh, but he looked happy. “How was snowmobiling with Cora?” 

“Really fun. Not as fun as with you, she wouldn’t let us go that fast, but still fun. Saw a lot of really nice views. And a _moose_! We saw a moose. I took a picture!” Stiles pulled his phone out of his pocket, flipping through his photos before showing Derek. 

He leaned forward to get a better look and made a soft humming noise, nodding once. “I’m surprised you guys got that close.” 

“It kind of snuck up on us. Cora had us stopped near a ridge to take pictures and when we headed back to the snowmobiles, it was kind of just _there_.” Stiles turned his phone around to look at it. “I’m pretty sure Cora purposefully scared it off. Are moose dangerous?” 

“They can be.” Derek shrugged. “Cora was probably just being cautious. Wouldn’t want any guests to get hurt.” 

“Bad for business,” Stiles said solemnly and Derek snorted. 

His eyes shifted away from Stiles briefly and his expression shuttered. His hands tightened against his own biceps and it was clear he was tensing up. Stiles frowned and glanced over his shoulder, feeling his own mood sour at the sight of Kate. She’d just sauntered back into the resort, eyes on the two of them at the front desk and smirking knowingly. 

Stiles figured she was feeling pretty smug about seeding doubt, which annoyed him, because she _hadn’t_. And he hated that she thought she _had_. 

Considering, he turned back to Derek. “Hey, are you okay with PDA?” 

Derek’s eyes left Kate to glance at him, giving him a surprised look, eyebrows rising. “Have you _seen_ your neck?” 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “There’s a difference between marking your territory and PDA, but I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Planting both hands on the counter, Stiles hoisted himself up slightly so he could lean over it a bit more and planted a kiss right on Derek’s lips. The Werewolf jerked, surprised, but when Stiles went to put his feet back on the ground, Derek stood up to close the distance, one hand cradling his cheek and deepening the kiss. 

“Really dude? I am _right_ here,” the guy working with Derek muttered from beside him. 

Stiles laughed into the kiss, not entirely meaning to, but unable to help it. He pulled away slightly, then pressed his lips to Derek’s once more, smiling at him. 

“See you later?” 

“Eight o’clock?” 

“Sounds good.” He kissed him again. “Have a good shift.” 

“Thanks.” 

Stiles turned to head for the elevator, and looked over at Kate to give her a smarmy look all the way there.

She didn’t look too impressed. 

* * *

“What are you guys doing tomorrow?” 

Derek looked up from the recipe in front of him to stare at Stiles’ back in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

“You know, tomorrow?” Stiles turned slightly, raising his eyebrows. “Christmas?” 

Oh, right. Derek had forgotten about the Christmas holidays, which was hilarious when he considered that he woke up that morning and went to work to find the whole place decked out. It was probably why Stiles had thought about it, as well. His family didn’t celebrate Christmas, but they knew a lot of their guests did, so his mom always had people come in to decorate the night before Christmas Eve. They took everything down the night of the twenty-sixth, just to be respectful since not everyone celebrated. 

Derek liked the decorations, even if he didn’t celebrate. They always got a real tree, so the entire lobby smelled like fresh pine, and while they couldn’t use mistletoe for obvious reasons, they still put up wreaths and garlands, and it made the place feel lively. 

“We don’t celebrate Christmas,” Derek said. 

“Do you celebrate something else? Hanukkah? Kwanza?” 

“Not really.” Derek flipped the recipe over, as if there was something on the back, but there wasn’t. It was just the one piece of paper. 

Stiles had made him print it at work, saying he wanted to make him dinner tonight. Derek hadn’t argued, because if Stiles liked cooking and wanted to make him dinner, he was all for it. They went to the store with the snowmobile after his shift for groceries, and even though Derek had been tasked with some chopping, it was at least more entertaining when he had someone else in the kitchen with him. 

Everything left to be done was just at the stove, so Stiles had kicked him out of the kitchen—which really just meant Derek standing on the other side of the counter—and was finishing up. It was some kind of pasta sauce, with meat and vegetables. It smelled really good, so Derek was looking forward to eating it. 

“You guys don’t do _anything_?” Stiles asked curiously, still stirring the pot in front of him. 

“We eat dinner together all the time, so I guess we don’t see it as being different from any other day.” He shifted the page aside and rested his folded arms on the counter. “What about you? Christmas a thing?” 

“Nah,” Stiles said easily. He paused before continuing. “We used to. My parents and I. I don’t think either of my parents were particularly religious, but I guess I saw all my friends getting presents and it was a holiday from school and whatever, so they did the whole Christmas thing for my benefit more than anything.”

Derek didn’t miss the past tense. “Not so much now?” he asked cautiously. 

Stiles shrugged one shoulder. “My mom died when I was nine. Cancer.” 

“Sorry.” 

He shrugged the same shoulder again. “That Christmas, dad was kind of in a bad place, both emotionally and financially. I knew santa wasn’t real, so I told him not to bother with Christmas that year. It’d be tight for him, and it wouldn’t be the same without mom anyway. So we skipped it. And then we did the next year. And the next one. And I guess... it just turned into one of those things we stopped doing.” He turned to smile at Derek. “I still visit my dad, and we still spend loads of time together, but I think we stopped using holidays as a reason for us to do something, you know? Like, if I go home for a weekend, my dad and I will go all out and make a turkey and potatoes and cornbread and stuff. We don’t wait for a special occasion to crop up to make a fancy meal. If we feel like celebrating being together, we just _do_ it.” 

“That sounds really nice,” Derek admitted. “And it actually sounds more meaningful.”

“Right?” Stiles grinned back at him. “Life’s too short to live with regrets. If you want a huge turkey dinner, don’t wait for a holiday.” 

“Is that why I’m getting a special dinner made on Christmas Eve?” Derek asked with a smirk. “What do I get tomorrow, Kraft Dinner?” 

“Kraft Dinner _does_ sound appealing,” Stiles insisted, turning to wink at him. “But no. I realized I made a huge deal about your fridge and pantry being empty that first day, and since then all I’ve done is make easy breakfast foods. I figured I should show some gratitude for you going out to buy groceries by making you dinner.”

“You _were_ pretty rude about my lack of food,” Derek said thoughtfully, laughing slightly when Stiles just let out a loud sound of indignation. 

He sat at the counter watching him, the way his muscles moved under the long-sleeved shirt he wore—one of Derek’s—and the confident way he reached for something or did something with what he had in front of him. 

Derek’s place always smelled like forest, apples and cinnamon, and fresh bread and he honestly didn’t know what he was going to do once Stiles left. He’d grown used to their mingled scents in his space, and when it stopped being there... It was going to be weird. 

And unpleasant. Really unpleasant. 

Honestly, he kept trying to think of ways to make Stiles stay. He didn’t _have_ to go back, after all. Maybe he could just... drop out. Live with Derek, make his meals, read books in the lobby all day. He knew that was a ridiculous thought, Stiles had a life where he was, but it just felt strange to realize he’d only known him for just under two weeks when it felt like they’d been together for _years_. 

Everything was still just so easy with him. Everything fit and made sense and _worked_. He didn’t want Stiles to go, but he knew he couldn’t ask him to stay. 

Sometimes, Derek hated that this was his life. That he lived out here in the mountains with his family and pack, heir of this massive ski resort that he knew he would be tied to forever whether he wanted to be or not. He didn’t used to hate it so much. He didn’t used to care if he was stuck there forever. 

Things were just a little different now. He kind of understood why Laura had panicked about Jason, even though it wasn’t the same thing. Jason was her mate, so it made sense she’d worry about him leaving. Stiles wasn’t his mate, but he was still _something_. 

Something more than just a stupid human who’d gotten lost in the woods, at any rate. 

“Done!” Stiles proclaimed, turning off the burner and grinning at Derek over his shoulder. “You want to taste it first, or do you trust me enough to load up a plate and dig in?” 

“My family will avenge me if I get poisoned,” he insisted. 

“Rude. Man, now I don’t feel like you _deserve_ my pasta,” Stiles said, even as he reached for a plate and began to dump spaghetti noodles onto it. He gave Derek a _generous_ portion, then drowned the pasta in sauce before finishing off with some grated fresh Parmesan. 

“Fancy,” Derek teased when Stiles put it down in front of him. “What, no fresh basil? No garnish?” 

Stiles thought for a moment, then leaned over the counter to kiss him, the corners of his lips twitching while he pulled back. 

“How’s that for a garnish?” 

“Can I get another taste?” Derek tugged Stiles forward again by the shirt, kissing him twice in succession before he was satisfied and letting him go. His eyes strayed to Stiles’ neck when he pulled away, and he realized he’d need to give him a few more marks. They were starting to fade. 

Stiles turned back to the stove to get his own much smaller plate and Derek waited for him before standing and heading for the couch, the two of them sitting down together. Stiles tugged the blanket over one-handed, muttering about Derek’s cabin being an ice box, but he knew he didn’t _actually_ mind or he wouldn’t spend so much time there with him. 

“Should we be festive and watch a Christmas movie on Christmas Eve?” Derek asked him, cuing up Netflix so they could find something to watch. 

Stiles thought for a moment, then grinned and said, “ _Die Hard_?” 

“The best Christmas movie,” Derek agreed, scrolling to the search option to find the movie and starting it up. 

Stiles took a bite of his pasta while Derek was still getting their movie sorted out, and he let out a happy exclamation at the taste, like he always did when he was pleasantly surprised by something. 

Derek knew it was a recipe he’d never tried before, so he was glad Stiles was happy with the result. When he took his own first bite, he was also fairly happy with the flavour profile, and was glad he was going to have some leftovers. He’d have to freeze the sauce so he could keep it for longer, since he was going to be sans-Stiles soon. 

But that was something to think about later, not now, when he had him pressed into his side, enjoying good pasta and a fun movie. 

Derek kissed his temple, then bit at his jaw lightly before settling on his neck and sucking a new hickey into his pulse. Stiles didn’t react other than to exhale sharply at a particularly hard bite, which Derek soothed over with his tongue. 

“Animal,” Stiles said when Derek was satisfied.

For now. 

“You love it.” 

“I certainly don’t _hate_ it,” Stiles confirmed with a grin. 

Derek went back to his dinner, thinking about the following day and the fact that he would be spending it staring across the lobby at Stiles while he read on the bench by the entrance. 

The next evening, Derek made their food. It was Kraft Dinner, and Stiles said it was perfect. 

* * *

Stiles didn’t want to wake up. He didn’t want to wake up, because today was the last day. Last _full_ day. In twenty-four hours—less probably, considering he didn’t know what time it was—he was going to be checking out and heading for the airport. 

In twenty-four hours, he’d be saying goodbye to Derek, and he really, _really_ wasn’t ready for that. 

So he’d rather just... lie there. In bed. With Derek. Pretending it wasn’t morning and that time wasn’t slowly ticking away. It was easier when he was warm and comfortable and pressed up against him like this. 

He knew Derek was awake. It was always easy to tell, because Derek’s fingers would brush lightly up and down his spine, or along one of his arms, or slide along his lower back. Derek liked touching him. Nothing sexual, just little casual touches. Comforting touches. 

Stiles liked it a lot. He never said as much, but he was pretty sure Derek knew. 

Today, Derek’s right hand was rubbing along Stiles’ left arm, which he had splayed over his chest. The shirt-sleeve had ridden up a bit, so Derek’s palm was sliding smoothly up and down his forearm. It was soothing, and kind of lulling Stiles back to sleep. 

When Derek turned his head slightly and kissed at Stiles’ forehead, he let out a small, tired moan. He didn’t want to wake up yet, he wanted to just lie there and bask in this moment. It was calm, and peaceful, and just _so nice_. 

“Are we spending the whole day in bed?” Derek asked. His voice was thick with sleep, so Stiles knew he hadn’t been awake much longer than him. 

“Can we?” Stiles tried to bury himself further into Derek’s side, which was made difficult when said individual laughed and it made Stiles’ pillow bounce. 

“I thought maybe after breakfast, we could go for a walk.” 

“A walk?” Stiles asked dubiously, frowning against Derek’s skin, eyes still closed. “You want to go for a walk?” 

“Why not? Just spend a relaxing, peaceful day together. No one comes out this way and it snowed again last night, so it should be a picture perfect winter wonderland outside.” 

Stiles thought about it. He wasn’t really interested in freezing his butt off, but he figured Derek wanted to just _do_ something. Taking a walk would be okay, they could just talk and stroll along leisurely. When he got too cold, he was sure Derek would bring them back to the house, or maybe the resort, and they could have something to drink, and just... spend time together. 

Groaning pathetically, Stiles shifted to rub his forehead against Derek’s chest, then forced himself to sit up, twisting around so he could throw his feet over the side of the bed. 

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Hale.” 

“I always seem to get what I want though,” Derek said after him, Stiles heading for the bathroom. 

“I hate you.” 

“Lie.”

Stiles turned to blow a raspberry at him before shutting the bathroom door. He brushed his teeth and tried to wake himself up a bit more before exiting the bathroom, trading places with Derek. He went to the kitchen to make himself a coffee, then got to work on their breakfast. 

Derek had an obsession with his breakfast sandwich, for some reason, so Stiles wasn’t going to deviate from the norm. He got to work cooking the bacon and cracking eggs into another pan while sipping his coffee. 

He’d just flipped the eggs over when Derek entered the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist and kissing his temple before resting his chin on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but they both knew this would be the last time Stiles made him breakfast. 

They had to check out by seven tomorrow morning to get to the airport on time for their flight, so Stiles wasn’t going to have time for breakfast. He was going to spend the night with Derek, but at six when his alarm went off for work, they’d both have to hustle out of the house so that Stiles had enough time to get back to his room and finish packing up. He didn’t have much to pack, but he still didn’t want to feel rushed trying to get his things organized. 

That meant today was the last day he cooked Derek breakfast, so he wanted to make sure it was a good one. 

“Pass me the bagels?” Stiles asked, nodding towards the toaster, where they’d already been toasted and popped up. 

Derek pulled away from him to grab two plates, putting the bagel halves down and then setting both plates up beside the stove for Stiles. Then, he re-attached himself to his back, watching him work. 

Stiles had already taken out the cheese, so he just shuffled a bit to the side so he could unwrap slices and set them down on one bagel half each. Then he added some bacon, one egg, more bacon, another slice of cheese, and the top bagel half. He inspected both for which one looked better, then opened that one up to put some tabasco sauce on it before putting the top back on. He picked up that plate and held it out to the side for Derek. 

“Breakfast of champions,” he said. 

“Breakfast of wolves,” Derek countered, kissing his temple again while taking the plate and pulling away. Stiles grabbed his own and his coffee, following after Derek to the couch so they could eat. 

They didn’t talk much during breakfast, mostly just enjoying each other’s company while they ate. After they were done, Derek cleaned everything up while Stiles went to double check all of his things. He wanted to try and keep everything together in one area so it would be faster to grab in the morning, and while he knew he could do that later, he figured it was easier to do now while Derek was busy. 

Once they were both ready, they pulled on their coats and boots and headed outside. Derek took his hand while they walked, the snow crunching loudly underfoot while they headed further into the woods. They’d come around this way before, on the snowmobile during Derek’s day off, but it was different walking it because it struck Stiles how _quiet_ it was out here. 

Everything was so white and quiet. And peaceful. It was weird that someone like him, who felt uncomfortable with silence and usually tried to fill it, found it nice out in the middle of the woods where the only sound was their breathing and their footsteps. 

“Do your sisters ever get jealous that you scored this place?” Stiles asked. “It’s so nice out here.” 

“They like being closer to people, so they’re happy where they are. I’m the only one who wanted to live in the middle of nowhere.” 

“Worked out in my favour,” Stiles argued. “Would’ve been a Stilesicle.” 

“Tragic,” Derek dead-panned and Stiles shoved him. 

He honestly hadn’t thought he’d enjoy wandering through the woods all day with Derek, but it was actually nice. They talked about nothing of importance, and Stiles actually got some good pictures of the scenery. He snuck one of Derek too, and while the Werewolf didn’t say anything, he was pretty sure he noticed. 

It occurred to him that he hadn’t taken any photos of his time with Derek at all. It made sense really, since Werewolves didn’t exactly photograph well, but the shot he’d gotten was his profile while he was looking up into a tree because he thought he heard a bird up there. Sun was shining through the branches and he just looked so fucking perfect, it was the best shot Stiles ever could’ve gotten of him. 

They headed back around one for lunch, and instead of going to Derek’s, they just walked to the resort and grabbed some food in the restaurant. Afterwards, they went down to the village to Derek’s favourite café and sat drinking warm winter drinks and sharing a brownie. It was a really calm and relaxing day. They weren’t in a rush to do anything, and they mostly just talked, which Stiles really liked. Derek wasn’t much of a talker, but he was still engaging whenever Stiles asked him questions. 

Around six, they headed back to the resort, and Stiles winced when he realized it was their last dinner. He really should spend it with his friends, and when he texted Scott to ask about what time they were eating at, his friend told him not to worry about it and to have fun with Derek. 

**[Stiles]**  
Are you sure? 

**[Scott]**  
yup :)   
**[Scott]**  
all good promise  
**[Scott]**  
we’ll see you in the morning  
**[Scott]**  
don’t be late for chekout 

Stiles had the best friends, really. 

He ended up going to Derek’s parents’ place for dinner. It was kind of nerve-wracking, but Cora and Laura—and Jason—were there too, so it was a little easier since they basically acted like he was just another person. He had a lot of fun, and was actually really glad they’d had dinner there tonight. 

It was already dark out when they left the Hale house, with it being winter and all, but Stiles wasn’t worried walking back to Derek’s. He knew Derek wouldn’t get lost, and he was probably the scariest thing in the woods anyway. 

Once they got back, Derek offered him an applesauce since they’d long ago finished the pie and Stiles laughed before taking it with a nod of thanks, the two of them leaning forward on opposite sides of the kitchen counter, eating their respective containers of applesauce. 

“Thanks Derek,” Stiles said when they were both finished and starting to think about bed. 

“For what?” 

“Making this vacation not suck?” Stiles offered with a small smile. “Putting up with me? Saving my life?” 

“To be fair, I don’t think you’d have died,” Derek insisted, though he didn’t sound _entirely_ sure. 

“Well, thanks for not thinking that the night of,” Stiles said with a laugh. “I think my vacation would’ve been atrocious if I died the first day in.” 

“It wouldn’t have been as entertaining for me, that’s for sure.” Derek took the container of applesauce from his hand and placed both of them in the sink to be dealt with later. “You want to shower? It’ll save you time tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, maybe.” Stiles glanced down the corridor towards the bathroom. “Sure.” 

“I’ll get you a towel.” 

“Thanks.” He watched Derek walk around the counter and down the corridor. Really, Stiles knew where the spare towels were by now, he could’ve gotten one himself, but he was pretty sure this was just an attempt for them to... he didn’t even know. Pretend everything was normal, maybe. That this wasn’t the end of whatever it was they shared. 

He waited until Derek returned to the kitchen, motioning that the bathroom was all his before he actually moved to head for it. Once inside, he shut the door behind himself and pressed his forehead against the wooden surface, closing his eyes. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this to be the end of everything. 

He was supposed to just have a good time and go home, but that wasn’t what this felt like. It wasn’t what it had felt like the entire time he’d been there. Derek had never been someone he wanted to have fun with and leave, he actually _meant_ something. 

“Fuck,” Stiles hissed, pulling away from the door and opening it. 

He started when he found Derek on the other side, one hand raised, like he was going to knock. It hovered there for a moment, the two of them staring at one another, and then Derek slowly lowered his hand. 

“I have trouble with—I can’t reach my back,” Stiles blurted out, ignoring how ridiculous that sounded. “Did you—I mean, it’d save water?” 

He couldn’t believe he’d just said that and kind of wanted to bang his head repeatedly against Derek’s counter. Instead, he just stared at him and hoped Derek didn’t re-think whatever he’d been thinking before Stiles had opened the door. 

“That... would be good,” Derek finally said. “And you... get cold easily.” 

“I do,” Stiles confirmed. “I really do.” 

Taking two steps back in invitation, Stiles moved out of the doorway and Derek stepped forward, entering the bathroom and slowly shutting the door behind himself, eyes still locked on Stiles. It was probably the most intense look he’d ever received from him to date, and instead of making him uncomfortable, it just made him excited. 

Stiles stood motionless for a second, and then finally turned to the shower. Derek had likely remodelled the bathroom, since he doubted the shower had looked this good for the original cabin, but he had a really nice standing shower stall with two-toned tile walls and a glass door. Took up the entire back end of the bathroom so that it was large enough to be the length of a tub, and wide enough to comfortably fit four people as long as they didn’t move around too much. 

More than enough room for the two of them, which Stiles had already experienced since they’d showered together once before. 

Opening the glass door, Stiles turned on the water and got to work trying to regulate the temperature. Derek’s shower wasn’t the best in terms of being warm, but it was still good enough, and he wasn’t expecting to have any problems feeling _hot_ right now. 

He still had one hand under the spray, trying to get everything warmed up when he felt lips at the back of his neck and hands at his waist. Derek kissed along to the side of his neck, biting at the juncture where it met his shoulder, and then slid both hands forward to the front of Stiles’ jeans. His breathing stuttered slightly when Derek undid them, pulling down the fly almost impossibly slowly. With the same speed of his movements, he brought his hands back to Stiles’ sides, dipped his thumbs beneath the hem of his pants and shorts, and started tugging them down. 

Stiles was pretty sure the water was okay by now, but he just stood there while Derek bit and sucked another bruise into his neck until he had to pull back to get his pants down to his ankles. Stiles jerked when he felt Derek’s teeth against his right asscheek and turned to glare over his shoulder. 

“Excuse me, I have to sit for hours tomorrow.” 

“Good, means you’ll think of me the whole time,” Derek said, getting his pants and underwear to his ankles. He bit at the same asscheek a second time for good measure and Stiles grunted, pulling his hand out from under the spray. 

Derek tapped at one foot to get him to lift it and Stiles complied, struggling to get his shirt off without falling over since he was a little unbalanced, Derek pulling his pants off from around his ankle, as well as his sock. He did the same with his other foot and Stiles tossed his shirt down to join his pants and boxers. 

When he was fully undressed, Stiles stepped into the shower, Derek getting back to his feet and beginning to strip himself. Stiles watched him through the still-open door, and Derek’s eyes were slowly beginning to bleed blue as he stared back at him. 

Stiles felt his heart rate begin to increase in speed. “I think I know how bunnies feel,” he admitted. 

“Good,” was Derek’s somewhat concerning response. He dropped his last article of clothing and stepped into the shower, closing the door behind himself. 

He pushed Stiles under the spray, water flowing over his head and down his face and torso, and then leaned forward to lick his way up Stiles’ throat, biting lightly at his chin. Stiles’ heart was beginning to pound a little faster. 

Derek pulled back for a second, reaching for the shampoo, and poured some into his own hand. Stiles started to reach for it when he was done, but Derek just arched an eyebrow at him, put it back, and buried his hands in Stiles’ hair, digging his fingers into his scalp. 

Stiles groaned, letting his head fall forward, water cascading over his back and shoulders from this position. Derek just kept massaging into his scalp, forming suds and being sure to wash every last inch of his head. 

“Is this another feature the resort offers?” Stiles asked, voice coming out a little breathier than he’d meant for it to. “Personal bathing partners?” 

“One-time offer,” Derek replied, voice a low rumble. 

Stiles let out a small laugh, and closed his eyes when Derek’s hands left his hair and he tilted his chin back to rinse the shampoo from it. One of his hands was dragging through the short strands, being sure that he’d gotten everything out and then he stepped back. Stiles straightened his head and opened his eyes, watching Derek turn to grab his body wash. He poured some into his hand before replacing the bottle and then rubbing them together, forming suds. When he started running his hands along Stiles’ torso, he leaned forward to press their lips together. 

Backing up a step so that he was against the wall, the tile cold against his skin, Derek pressed forward into him, half-under the spray himself now, and kissed him harder. Stiles brought his arms up to bury them in Derek’s wet hair, pulling him closer and sucking lewdly on his tongue. Derek didn’t seem to mind, and his hands started to wander in a less controlled way than they had been when he’d been soaping him up. 

Stiles groaned into Derek’s mouth when one of his hands closed around his dick. He’d been half-hard since the undressing, but was definitely at full attention now, Derek’s soapy hand curling around him and beginning to pump slowly. 

“Fuck,” Stiles moaned, lips inches away from Derek’s, water droplets sliding off his bottom one. 

Derek ducked his head down to bite along his throat, and Stiles was sure he was going to wake up with a new array of hickeys and bite marks decorating every inch of his neck. 

He didn’t mind even a little bit. 

His hands lowered to dig into Derek’s skin, struggling to find purchase along his wet back and digging blunt nails into whatever he could find. Derek’s hand was still moving torturously slowly, tongue and teeth still at his neck. Stiles retaliated by biting into Derek’s shoulder, even though he knew any marks he left would heal instantly. 

A deep, guttural growl ripped up Derek’s throat at the action, and Stiles grinned before biting at him again a little to the left. 

Derek retaliated by increasing the speed of his hand and Stiles forgot how to breathe, pressing his forehead against Derek’s shoulder and gasping for air while thrusting his hips forward. Derek swiped his thumb over the head, and then began to pump even faster, Stiles groaning against his skin and grinding his forehead against Derek’s shoulder. 

“Fuck, _please_.” Stiles dragged blunt nails down Derek’s wet back, clenching his eyes shut and gritting his teeth as he got closer and closer to the edge. He wasn’t sure what escaped his mouth when he came, wether it was Derek’s name, another swear word, maybe him taking the Lord’s name in vain, whatever. All he knew was it wasn’t in English, whatever it was. 

He was glad he had a wall at his back and a Werewolf at his front, because he might’ve fallen over without the support. He lolled his head back, pressing it against the wall while his chest rose and fell, and opened his eyes to slits. 

Derek’s face was _right there_ , eyes electric blue and nostrils flaring. Then he brought his hand up, ribbons of cum coating his palm, and licked a stripe up from wrist to middle fingertip, swallowing visibly once he’d gotten enough semen into his mouth. 

“If you make me come a second time right now, I might actually die.” 

“I know a good Necromancer,” was Derek’s retort, and he kept eye contact while he continued licking his hand clean, water still beating down on his back and sliding through his hair. 

Stiles was still trying to catch his breath, supported by the wall and Derek’s body flush against his. He could feel Derek’s erection against his hipbone, but before he could reach down for it, Derek pulled back slightly and the same hand he’d just been licking disappeared south. 

“I can do it,” he insisted, trying to reach for him, but Derek ducked his head forward to kiss him lightly, some of his own cum pressed to his lips. 

“I can do me. I just wanted to do you.” 

“I can do it,” Stiles insisted again, but he didn’t argue, because Derek was already jerking himself quickly, head bowed and resting against Stiles’ shoulder the same way he’d just been doing moments before. 

Derek came with a snarl, most of his cum hitting Stiles’ stomach, and the second it did, Derek didn’t even seem to bask in the afterglow of his own orgasm. He just immediately reached out with his cum-covered hand and smeared it into Stiles’ skin, over his stomach and up his chest, and then down over his crotch, pumping Stiles lazily a few times. 

He grunted, the action a little too much right then, but Derek didn’t push it and let go moments later. He stepped back so he wasn’t in Stiles’ immediate space, but stayed close enough to keep him standing. 

Stiles peeked open one eye, Derek’s having returned to normal and staring down at what he’d painted on Stiles’ skin. 

“You know I was supposed to be getting cleaned _up_ in the shower and not coated in cum, right?” 

“Just making sure people know who you belong to,” Derek insisted with a cocky smirk. God Stiles loved that smirk when it showed up. 

“Pretty sure Scott’s gonna whine the whole way home.” 

“At least it’ll distract him from being on a plane.” 

“True,” Stiles offered. 

He didn’t move when Derek pulled away entirely, the other man turning back to grab the soap and then tugging on one of Stiles’ wrists to get him under the spray. He kissed him lazily while forming suds between his hands again, and when he cleaned him up this time, it was with actual intent to get him clean as opposed to an excuse to jerk him off. 

Not that Stiles felt Derek needed _any_ excuses to jerk him off, but still.

What should’ve been a relatively short shower ended up being almost forty-five minutes. When Stiles was clean, it was his turn to clean up Derek, even though he insisted it wasn’t necessary. That entire experience ended with Stiles on his knees and Derek’s dick in his mouth, the Werewolf fucking into his throat. It was probably the hottest thing Stiles had ever experienced, and he was pretty sure Scott was going to sob when he saw him in the morning because he would _know_ where Derek’s cum ended up. 

Namely all over his face and in his mouth. Stiles had no regrets. 

When the water started to get a little _too_ cold, they finished up _actually_ cleaning themselves off and stepped out. Stiles wrapped his towel around himself, teeth chattering while Derek dried himself off. Then he hugged him for a few minutes to try and warm him up until Stiles felt like he could survive trying to dry off in this ice box of a house. 

Derek went to get Stiles’ borrowed pajamas and he pulled them on without bothering with shorts this time. He only had one pair left, and he’d rather save them for the morning in case Derek decided to get handsy in bed. 

As usual, he climbed under the covers first, making sure his phone was plugged in and charging while Derek made his rounds through the house, turning off lights and checking the front door was locked. 

Stiles had never met anyone so conscientious of checking the front door. 

When he finally entered the room and shut the door, Stiles tried not to think about how this was the last time he was going to see him silhouetted in the doorway like that. He just patted the spot in bed beside him and Derek rolled his eyes before turning off the light, bathing the room in darkness. 

Stiles didn’t think he’d ever get used to how positively _pitch black_ it always was when the lights were off, but he felt the bed dip a moment later and he rolled into Derek, relishing the warmth that radiated off him and throwing one leg over his. Derek wound an arm around his shoulders and pulled him further into his side, like he was trying to get Stiles to lie right on top of him.

He didn’t, but it was always tempting. 

Stiles got comfortable resting his cheek on Derek’s closest pectoral, and felt the other man’s fingers sliding up and down his spine in a slow, soothing manner. Stiles scratched idly at Derek’s chest with the hand by his cheek, nails dragging through his chest hair. 

He didn’t want this to be the last time he saw him. He didn’t want this to be over once he checked out tomorrow. But Derek hadn’t said anything, so Stiles honestly wasn’t sure if this was just one of those things where Derek had a good time and it was over when it was over. Or maybe he was thinking the same thing as Stiles and one of them just had to _say something_. 

“Hey Derek?” 

“Mm?” he asked sleepily, hand still moving along his spine. 

_I think I love you._

“Nothing. Good night.” 

Derek tightened his hold on him and kissed at his forehead. “Good night, Stiles.” 

* * *

Derek didn’t sleep. 

He tried, but he didn’t sleep. He lay in bed staring up at the ceiling the entire night, listening to Stiles’ soft breathing against his chest, and the slow and steady beat of his heart. 

It was windy outside, and he could hear the trees bending and groaning. He was tired, and he wanted to sleep, but he couldn’t. 

This was all going to be gone soon. He didn’t know how to ask Stiles to stay. Even if he _did_ know how to ask, he wouldn’t. He didn’t have the right to ask him. But he wanted him to stay.

Or maybe not even to stay. To just... _be_ with him. Maybe Derek could visit him sometime. Maybe Stiles could come back, not as a guest, but just as his... whatever this was. Boyfriend? Sure, boyfriend. He liked that title, it was something he didn’t mind thinking about.

His boyfriend Stiles. 

Derek knew time was passing, getting closer to when it would be over, and he figured that was why his brain wouldn’t let him sleep. He wanted to memorize every moment of this before it was gone. 

Turning his head, he reached out for his phone to check the time, and realized it was sitting at seven percent. He’d forgotten to plug it in to charge before getting into bed. It wasn’t a big deal, he wouldn’t need it at work, he’d just leave it here and charge it throughout the day. 

It was just after five. He only had under an hour left with Stiles. 

Putting his phone back down quietly, he wrapped his other arm around the man sleeping against him and tightened his hold. Stiles let out a sound in his sleep, mumbled something about tuna fish, and then proceeded to drool on Derek’s chest. 

He didn’t mind. Stiles drooled, it was something he’d learned their first night together. It was crazy to think that first night had been two weeks ago. It felt like two _years_ at this point. 

He didn’t want to lose him. But he didn’t know what to _say_ to him, either. Would Stiles even be interested in trying to keep this going long distance? Did things like that even _work_? 

Derek thought about it the entire hour leading up to Stiles’ alarm going off. His was a little less jarring than Derek’s usual blaring alarm so Stiles didn’t jerk awake violently. It was a bit more subtle, the music coming from his phone seeming to lull him slowly out of slumber until his eyes opened to slits and he let out a groan, turning his face and whining into Derek’s chest. 

“You need to get up,” Derek reminded him, hand sliding up and down his back once. “You have to get ready to go.” 

Stiles groaned in confirmation, but he still lay there for an additional minute while the song continued to play. Then, with a heavy sigh, he pushed himself away from Derek and rolled over, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. Derek watched as he sat there for a long moment, unmoving.

Neither of them said anything and eventually, Stiles reached over to turn off the alarm. 

Derek sat up then, climbing out of bed and turning on the light. Stiles let out a small sound of displeasure, but didn’t say anything, getting to his feet and unplugging his charger from the wall. Derek took the opportunity to plug his own phone in on his side, then went to the bathroom while Stiles undressed in the bedroom. 

When he emerged, Stiles was dressed with his bag in his hand, dropping it in the corridor beside Derek’s bedroom door while they swapped places. It occurred to Derek that once Stiles was gone, he wouldn’t need the second toothbrush anymore. He’d grown used to seeing it beside his, it would be weird to get rid of it. 

It was weirder still that two weeks made him _used_ to seeing it to the point where getting _rid_ of it would be the hard part. 

Finishing up quickly in the bathroom, he stepped out while drying his hands on his pants and saw Stiles putting on his boots. Derek hesitated, then headed into his room to quickly grab one of his own bags, grabbing all of his running gear and tossing it into it. He was going to drive the snowmobile down, but he figured after losing Stiles today, he would probably need a run home to clear his head. He could just pick the snowmobile back up the next time he went to do groceries. 

He was going to go back to his usual routine after today, anyway, so might as well. 

Once he had everything, he turned off the bedroom light and headed for the front door, Stiles shrugging into his jacket. He looked tired, and was quiet, which was unusual for him in the morning, but Derek didn’t say anything. He just pulled on his own boots and grabbed his coat, then motioned for Stiles to precede him outside. 

Locking the door, he took Stiles’ hand to lead him around the house in the darkness, and lifted the seat of his snowmobile to drop his bag into it, along with Stiles’. Once he was settled on the seat, Stiles climbed on behind him and wrapped his arms around his middle, pressing his cheek to Derek’s back. 

Derek kind of wanted to take his time getting to the resort, but he knew Stiles had to finish packing and get ready to go, so he drove the usual speed to make sure they got there in time. He parked outside his parents’ place, then the two of them walked to the resort together. 

Erica straightened slightly when they entered the lobby, Derek walking Stiles to the elevator. He hit the ‘up’ button and when the doors opened, Stiles turned to him. 

“I’ll see you for check-out, right?” 

“Yeah,” Derek said, smiling slightly. “Yeah, I’m just gonna go grab breakfast from the kitchen and I’ll be at the front.” 

Stiles nodded before stepping into the elevator, hitting the button for the floor his room was on, and then staring at Derek up until the doors closed. 

Derek exhaled slowly, rubbing his face with both hands, then turned to head for the kitchens. He could see Erica watching him as he did so, scowling slightly. 

“Please tell me you’re not just going to leave things like this,” she insisted, her voice carrying not only because of the quiet lobby, but also because they were Werewolves. 

“He hasn’t said anything.” 

“You’re so fucking stupid, just give him your number!” Erica snapped, Derek pushing through the doors into the kitchen. 

He walked down the short hallway, grunting good morning to the people like he usually did, and when he reached the kitchens, Alex and Boyd were there as normal getting things prepped. Alex did a double-take at the sight of him since this was literally one of two days in the past two weeks where Derek had shown up as normal, and then got to work making his breakfast sandwich. 

Boyd was kneading dough at his station, but he was watching Derek while doing so. 

“You really _should_ give him your number,” he said after a long moment of the two of them staring at one another silently. 

“What if he doesn’t want it?” Derek asked. 

“What if he does and isn’t sure how to ask for it?” 

Derek let out an annoyed sigh, raking one hand through his hair, and went to pour himself some coffee. He was definitely going to need it today, considering he hadn’t slept all fucking night. 

When Alex finished with his breakfast sandwich, Derek was annoyed that it didn’t taste right. He knew it was psychosomatic, because he’d been eating the same damn thing for literal _years_ , but it was like now that he’d had Stiles make them for him, none of the others were ever going to compare. 

He ate quickly, irrationally worried he was going to miss Stiles’ check-out, and then headed back out to the front. Erica was checking in another tired-looking couple and Derek disappeared into the back room to shrug out of his coat and change his shoes. He dumped his bag on the floor without worrying about it too much and once he was organized—or, as organized as he was going to get—he went out front to set up his computer, pulling his name tag out of the drawer and pinning it to the front of his shirt. 

Erica had finished with the couple by then, leaning sideways against her workspace and watching him with an annoyed look on her face. 

“He practically _lived_ with you, Derek. Pretty sure he wants your number.” 

“He hasn’t said anything,” he repeated. 

“Neither have _you_ ,” Erica retorted. “And you _clearly_ want _his_ number. Would it kill you to ask?” 

_Maybe,_ he wanted to say, but he instead just got to work booting everything up and getting himself sorted out. 

When the elevator dinged, his stomach dropped and he glanced up, seeing the same group of friends exiting the lifts. They all looked tired, but were chatting amongst themselves. Matt was resolutely looking anywhere but at Derek, speaking loudly and cheerfully to Danny. 

Stiles was hovering near the back, looking a little uncomfortable, carry-on in his hand and duffel strap over one shoulder. Scott and Allison came to the front to check out, Erica ringing them through and getting all the keys back. Derek spent the whole time just staring at Stiles, who was scowling down at his shoes. 

When they were done, Allison turned and motioned for the group to follow, which they did. Scott lingered for a minute, moving over to Stiles, then gave him a shove towards the tills. Stiles punched him, then shook out his hand, obviously having hurt himself. Scott grabbed his strap off his shoulder, pulling Stiles’ duffel onto his own, pulled his carry-on out of his other hand, and then headed after the others. 

Stiles watched them walk away until the last of them disappeared outside, then turned to face the front desk. 

“Well!” Derek jumped, Erica clapping her hands beside him. “I think I deserve to leave early today. It’s been a long night. Gonna go bug Boyd for some breakfast. Bye Stiles! Have a safe flight!”

“Thanks. It was nice meeting you.” 

“You too!” Erica waved over her shoulder while she walked away, disappearing around the corner. The door leading into the back area opened a moment later, and then closed. 

Derek looked over at Stiles again, who let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his head, shuffling forward. 

“Look,” he said. 

And that was all he said. 

Wincing, he walked the rest of the way to the counter, then sighed again and blurted out, “I really like you. Like, a lot. I was thinking—maybe we could, I don’t know, just—”

“Yes,” Derek said immediately. 

Stiles looked startled. “What, really?” 

“Yes,” Derek repeated, feeling a weight lifting off his shoulders. “I wasn’t sure, but—”

“Yes,” Stiles agreed, nodding emphatically. “All of the yes. Give me your phone, I’ll give you my number.” 

Derek reached for his pocket, then paused when he remembered it was at home. “I left it at home to charge.” 

“Oh.” Stiles turned to glance at the door. “Scott took my carry-on. Which has my phone.”

Derek looked around and grabbed some of the resort stationary and a pen, putting them on the counter. Stiles grinned and moved forward picking the pen up and scrawling a phone number down. Derek saw him add an email address, as well. 

He’d just finished up when the front door opened and Jackson poked his head in. 

“Hurry up, if I miss my flight, you’re paying for it.” 

“Fuck, I’m _coming_ ,” Stiles insisted, but he was grinning while doing so, sliding the paper and pen back to Derek. 

Planting both hands on the counter, he jumped up slightly and leaned over it to kiss him. Derek leaned forward to chase his lips when he started to pull back, but had to let him go when he stepped away entirely. 

“Call me,” Stiles said, walking backwards towards the door with a grin. “Or text me. Email me? Whatever, just—I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” 

“The second I get home,” Derek confirmed, taking the piece of paper and folding it carefully before tucking it into the pocket of his slacks. “Have a safe flight.” 

“Thanks. Have a good day!” 

“Thanks.” 

“Come _on_!” Jackson insisted, grabbing at the back of Stiles’ jacket and yanking him out of the lobby. He was still grinning like an idiot and Derek was pretty sure his own smile was trying to break his face. 

Erica sauntered out of the kitchen about twenty minutes later, giving him a knowing look and flipping her hair over her shoulder haughtily. He just flipped her off, but was pretty glad he didn’t have his phone right now, since he was sure she’d texted basically everyone he knew to tell them the good news. 

Despite being sleep-deprived and _exhausted_ , Derek actually had a pretty good day. He was sad Stiles was gone, but having it confirmed that morning that both of them actually wanted to try this felt really good. He basically went through the whole day in a bit of a happy-sleepy haze. 

Laura came by at one point to tease him, and told him they were having dinner at their parents’ place tonight and it wasn’t optional. He was too tired to argue so he just waved her off impatiently, promising he’d be there. He wanted to get his phone though, so he figured this would probably work out. He could jog home to get his phone, maybe take a short nap, jog back to his parents’ place, and then bring his snowmobile home after dinner. 

When his shift finally ended, he went into the back to change out into his running gear, tossing his work clothes into the laundry, and then stretched outside for a few minutes before beginning the jog back home. He was _really_ tired by then, but he’d had a lot of coffee and figured an hour nap when he got home should make him conscious enough for dinner. Besides, being sleep-deprived would be a really good excuse to duck out of dinner early, so this worked out well. 

Arriving home, he was both happy and sad when he opened the door to the scent of Stiles. He knew it would fade eventually, but hopefully not for a little while. And he still had a few of the clothes Stiles had recently worn, since he hadn’t washed them yet. Not to be weird or anything, but if he avoided washing them, they’d retain his scent for a while longer. 

Derek moved into his bedroom to grab his phone, pulling the charger free and then reaching into his pocket for the paper with Stiles’ information on it. 

Except it wasn’t the right pocket. He frowned, and then realized he’d changed out of his slacks at work because he was going to be running home. Not a big deal, he’d only really come home for his phone anyway, so he could just head back now and—

“It’s Sunday.” 

The realization hit him like a freight train and panic instantly gripped him. Turning, he tore out of the house much faster than was wise, considering he didn’t know who was around, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

It was the end of the day on _Sunday_. And the same thing happened every Sunday. Had _been_ happening every Sunday for as long as he’d been working the front desk. 

Derek pulled up his contacts while he ran, his heart somewhere up in his throat when he put it to his ear. 

_“Hey De—”_

“Boyd, are you still at work?” 

_“What? No, I left a couple—”_

“Fuck!” Derek hung up, leaping over a fallen tree trunk and dialled another number. 

_“Thank you for calling—”_

“Jessica! Has Satomi gone into the back yet?” 

_“Derek?”_ She seemed surprised, and he wondered what he must’ve sounded like to her. _“Yeah, a few minutes a—”_  
  
“Stop her! Jessica, do _not_ let her wash my pants! Go and stop her, now!”

_“O-okay. Okay.”_

“ _Now_!” Derek screamed. 

_“All right! Okay!”_ Jessica hung up. 

“Fuck!” Derek lowered his hand from his ear and ran faster, literally feeling like he couldn’t breathe. Fucking Christ, that was the _only contact_ he had with Stiles! He hadn’t had time to give him his information, and if Derek lost that fucking piece of paper, he was never going to find him again! 

Shit, he didn’t even know his last _name_! How could he not know his last name?! Why hadn’t he ever _asked_ for his last name?! 

But it was okay, it was fine. It would be fine. Jessica was going to stop Satomi, he would get the piece of paper, apologize for yelling at her, apologize to Boyd for hanging up on him, and everything would be fine. 

Derek almost collided with a group of friends walking around the back of the resort when he exploded out of the trees but he managed to twist around them, one of them letting out a startled shout, and then tore his way up the stairs. 

He practically took the glass door off in his haste to get inside, shoving past two girls who were on their way out and ignoring their angered shouts while he raced for the employees only door. He slammed through them and bolted towards the laundry room, and then skid to a halt in the doorway, feeling his heart sink. 

Satomi was standing in front of one of the machines, a pile of wet clothes at her feet, and Jessica looking terrified. Her face paled when she caught sight of Derek and she took a few steps back. 

“I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_! I-I tried, but she’d already started, and—”

Derek hurried forward, digging through the wet clothes and ignoring Satomi’s inquiry of whether or not he was okay. He dug through all the pockets until he found the pair with the piece of paper. It was soaked through, the ink running, and when he peeled it apart, unfolding it from the quarters it had been in, his heart sank when absolutely nothing was legible. 

He heard a door open down the corridor, but it sounded like it was far away. Fuck, this literally could _not_ be happening right now. 

“Hey, has anyone seen Derek?” 

“Laura,” Satomi said simply. 

He heard Laura’s approach, and then she crouched beside him, eying him worriedly. “Hey. Boyd called, said something was wrong. Are you okay?” Her eyes shifted to the piece of paper he was holding, then back up. 

“I didn’t have my phone,” Derek said stupidly. Of all the _fucking_ days, it had to be today? Seriously? _Seriously_?! 

“Come on.” Laura wrapped her arm around his shoulders and tugged. “Come on, let’s go to mum and dad’s. Let’s go.” 

Derek let her pull him up, seeing her snatch his phone off the floor where he’d dropped it while digging through the wet clothes. She apologized to Satomi, and to Jessica, and to the room at large while leading him out. He just kept staring at the piece of paper. 

Brown university was located in Rhode Island, so maybe he could figure out if he was reading the area code right. The email was beyond recognition, he couldn’t even tell what the domain was, but _maybe_ the phone number was salvageable. That could be a one. Or a four. Or a seven... 

“Derek,” Laura said, the two of them walking towards their old childhood home together. “Derek, what happened?” 

“Stiles gave me his number,” he said, still trying to decipher the digits on the page. 

“Erica said, that’s so awesome!” Laura said, sounding thrilled. 

“Not really,” he insisted, and Laura seemed to realize what he was looking at. 

“Oh.” She reached out and cautiously took one corner. Derek let her have the paper and she brought it closer to her face, the two of them reaching the back steps of their house. Derek climbed them first, Laura following. “We can try and dry it out? Maybe we can—I mean, we can probably figure out the number. Somehow.” 

Derek let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head and pulling open the back door, entering the house. He didn’t hear his parents, which meant they were probably both still out. They shouldn’t leave the door unlocked when they weren’t home, but he figured nobody would be stupid enough to try and walk into this house, of all places. It was clearly visible from the resort, and any of the numerous employees would say something if they saw anyone foreign entering the Hale residence. 

“Just my luck. Find someone I’m into, and I lose their fucking number.” 

“Don’t get all pessimistic now,” Laura insisted, smacking him across the back of the head while passing behind him. He just fell heavily into one of the kitchen chairs, frustrated and annoyed with himself. He wanted to be mad at Satomi, or Jessica, but it wasn’t their fault. He should’ve remembered to take the note out of his pocket before tossing his clothes in the laundry. 

Fuck, instead of _watching_ Stiles write his information down, he should’ve been doing the same so that Stiles at least _had_ his information. Now Derek was stuck not knowing how to touch base with him. 

Maybe Stiles would just email the resort? After all, they had a general information email, maybe if he didn’t hear from him, he’d email them just to find out if something had happened? 

Derek snorted aloud at that thought, because it was fucking _ridiculous_! Stiles wasn’t going to email to ask what was wrong, he was going to assume that Derek had just been fucking around with him and that now that he was gone, he was done with him. 

“Fuck!” Derek slammed one fist angrily against the table, Laura pacing in front of him while squinting at the page. “The _one_ person I have _any_ interest in in _years_ , and I fuck it up.” 

“Calm down, we’ll figure it out, it’s not the end of the world,” Laura insisted, putting the wet piece of paper down on the table and his phone beside it. “I think that might be a nine? Or maybe a zero...” 

Derek rubbed his face with both hands, starting to get really mad. Mad at Satomi, mad at Jessica, mad at fucking _Stiles_. Really, he was feeling this way because of Stiles, it was basically all his fault. “I shouldn’t have done this. This was so stupid, this was _such_ a dumb thing to do. I just wanted to fucking live my life, alone, out in the woods. Go to work, have my routine, live my life. Just not deal with any of this relationship bullshit. But then Stiles had to fucking get lost in the God damn woods a stone’s throw from my house. Had to fucking invite himself into my life, and make me _feel_ things and throw his stupid scent around. Now my entire fucking house smells like the forest, and fresh bread, and apples and cinn—”

“What?” 

“What?” Derek demanded, sliding his hands off his face, annoyed at the interruption. He frowned at Laura’s expression, because she looked horrified. 

“Derek, what?” she demanded, her hands curling into the back of the chair she was standing in front of, the wood creaking. 

“What?” he repeated again, annoyed. 

“What you said,” she insisted. Her heartbeat was starting to increase in speed. Why was her heartbeat increasing in speed? Derek frowned at her chest, because there was no reason for her heart to slowly be picking up in pace. “You said—you said your place smells like the forest. And fresh bread?” 

“And apples and cinnamon, yeah. Like Stiles.” 

Laura looked like she’d stopped breathing. “Derek, Stiles doesn’t smell like that.” 

“What? Of course he does, it’s all I’ve been smelling for the past two fucking weeks. My place _reeks_ of it.”

Derek watched her for a moment as slowly, so very slowly, one of her hands rose to cover her mouth. He frowned, listening to her heart kick up another notch while she just stared at him, one hand over her mouth and her eyes beginning to water. 

“Laura, _what_?” Derek demanded, annoyed. 

Laura didn’t say anything, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Derek frowned as she hit a button and brought it to her ear, still staring at him with the most heartbroken look on her face. 

_“Hi sweetie.”_

“Mom, you need to come home right now,” she said quietly. “Right now.” 

_“Is everything okay? What happened?”_ Talia demanded, voice taking on its usual Alpha tone when she was worried. 

“Please hurry.” Laura lowered the phone, still staring at Derek, and hung up. 

Derek had no idea how he should be feeling, because on the one hand, he was worried, but on the other, he was just _really_ confused. And still mad. Really mad. And panicked. And _mad_! 

“It makes sense,” she said, gripping the back of the chair tightly enough for the wood to creak in protect. “Fuck, it makes _so much_ sense. How did we _miss_ it?” 

“Miss what?” Derek demanded. “Laura, what the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Derek, what does Jason smell like to you?” 

That was the weirdest segue he’d ever heard in his life, but he crossed his arms and indulged her. “Cheap beer, sweat and whatever body wash he uses, I guess.” 

“That’s now how he smells to me,” she whispered, making him frown even more. “He smells like freshly cut grass, and burning firewood, and cotton candy.” 

That made _no_ fucking sense, her boyfriend did _not_ smell like those things. Derek opened his mouth to tell her so, despite already having basically done so, when he paused. Those three things she’d just described... those were things _Laura_ liked. Things that made her happy, and that she enjoyed. She’d always been the first to race towards any bonfires when they were younger, because she loved the smell of the wood as it burned. Whenever spring came, any areas where someone had to mow the grass, Laura would sit out front and just inhale the scent of it. 

Cotton candy was probably more the sugar than anything. Laura loved sugar in all forms, whether she was eating it, or smelling it, or even just _looking_ at it. 

Those things Jason smelled liked to her, those were things _she_ liked. 

Derek... loved the forest. He’d always loved the forest. And fresh bread was probably one of his favourite things in the world, it was why he liked going to the village so much—and the kitchens, really—because the smell of fresh bread was always in the air. And apples and cinnamon, well, he liked both together, separately, or in a pie. He loved apples. He loved cinnamon. He loved pie. 

But if Jason smelled nothing like what Laura described to _him_ , and Stiles smelled nothing like what _he’d_ described to _Laura_ , then what did that me—

Derek felt like the world had just tipped sideways and his eyes snapped back up from the table to Laura’s face. She still had that heartbroken expression, but it looked ten times worse now that she seemed to have realized he’d clued in. 

That was... impossible. It literally _wasn’t_ possible. Stiles was—he’d only been here for _two weeks_! He’d just _shown up_ , he was _no one_! 

But Jason had been no one once, too. Jason had been a guest once, too. 

And Derek remembered. He remembered his panic that first night, seeing him in the woods. His wolf had been looking for something, hadn’t let him go home, like it _knew_ without actually knowing that Stiles was lost out there. And he’d been so worried about him. More worried than he’d ever been about anyone else. He’d brought him home, taken care of him, let him _stay_. He’d been worrying about the door, had been possessive of him, and _marking_ him. 

And Stiles... fit. He fit into every aspect of his life, like the final piece of a puzzle Derek hadn’t even known he was building. He _fit_. With his friends, with his family, in his home, in his _bed_. He’d worn his clothes, and Derek had marvelled at how _right_ he looked in them. Stiles had stood making breakfast for him that first morning, and it had seemed _normal_. And he’d been there two weeks. Only _two weeks_. And it felt like so much longer. 

“Are you...” Derek felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Is he...?” 

“Yeah,” Laura said, her voice catching slightly. “Yeah, Der.” 

Stiles was his mate. 

Stiles was his fucking _mate_. 

And the only point of contact he had for him was a piece of _fucking_ paper that had gone through an industrial washing machine! 

Derek stumbled to his feet. Laura started to reach out for him but he waved her off, needing to think. Needing to fucking _breathe_. He stumbled to the back door and wrenched it open, then slammed it shut behind him. 

No. 

No, no, no. 

This wasn’t... supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to let this happen. 

He’d been adamant that he wasn’t going to let anyone into his life, not even his mate. _Especially_ not his mate. He just wanted to live alone in the woods, away from people, and work until he died. He wasn’t supposed to... 

His mate wasn’t _literally_ supposed to fall into his fucking _lap_! 

Derek sat down on the top step and pressed his clenched fists against his forehead, closing his eyes and trying to breathe. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t meant to _be_ like this! 

He heard his mom come home, entering through the front door, and could hear Laura talking to her. It sounded like she was crying. He tried to tune her out, not wanting to listen to what plans they had to figure out how to find Stiles. 

Fuck, Stiles was his fucking _mate_? Fucking hell, _how_ had he not figured that out for himself? Why hadn’t he ever _asked_ Laura about it? Or his mom? Why had he just sworn off people after Kate without considering the fact that his mate might turn up and he’d have to _know_ what to expect? 

He’d had no fucking idea that mates smelled different to their wolf! He’d honestly always thought that Laura didn’t mind that Jason used that stupid body wash. And what about his dad? If he was his mother’s mate, then did that mean he smelled different to her than he did to the rest of them? 

Fuck, this was a mess. He didn’t know enough about Stiles to find him, all he knew was that he went to Brown university. He didn’t even know his last _name_. 

He knew Allison’s, but the only thing he could use to find her would be social media, and even as he considered pulling something up on his phone, he remembered Stiles telling him she’d erased her entire online presence. He could probably find out Scott’s last name from the booking, but they didn’t keep any other information after check-out except for the credit card number for privacy purposes. 

But maybe he could find _him_ on Facebook? Maybe he could... look up all the Scott’s with the last name on the booking and see if any of them looked familiar or went to Brown? If he found Scott, he’d find Stiles. 

Or maybe Stiles would magically email them. Maybe he’d assume Derek would fuck something up and would just touch base to make sure? Wishful thinking, but _maybe_?! 

When the back door slid open, Derek tensed but didn’t move. It shut quietly, footsteps moving over to him across the deck before someone sat down heavily beside him. His ass was cold from his prolonged seating arrangement, but he couldn’t find it in himself to move. 

“Go away, Cora.” 

“I’m not gonna say anything,” she insisted quietly, and he felt her press into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. 

True to her word, she said nothing further. She just sat beside him, pressing into him, reminding him that he wasn’t alone, and stayed with him until he decided to go back inside. 

That moment didn’t come for many hours. 

* * *

When Stiles got off the plane and didn’t have a text from Derek, he wasn’t worried about it. He’d been working all day, and he’d known Stiles was on a plane, so there was no need to rush to text him. Besides, he probably didn’t want to seem too eager, so while disappointing, he wasn’t worried. 

The next morning, when he woke up and still found no text, he found it a little weird, but still nothing to be concerned about. They’d only _just_ parted ways after all, and Derek had a life, he was allowed to think about something other than Stiles. He would admit that every text he got that day had him scrambling for his phone, looking for an unknown number that he could finally program into his contacts, but every time he checked, it was one of his friends or his dad. 

By the second day, he was starting to think maybe he’d written his number down wrong. Maybe his handwriting sucked and Derek couldn’t read it. Which meant it was a good thing he’d given him his email, because that would be much easier to decipher. Stiles sucked at writing down numbers, but his letters were perfect. 

He checked his email, refreshing a few times to make sure nothing was stuck in limbo, and then went into his junk folder to see if he saw anything that suggested it might’ve come from Derek. He didn’t, but he opened every email anyway, just to be sure. 

On the third day, he tried not to think about it too much. Derek was _busy_ , he was the son of the people who owned a _huge_ resort. A huge _successful_ resort. He’d text him when he could, Stiles was sure. And who knew, maybe he was just taking his time, trying to make Stiles wait. Didn’t want to seem too needy or desperate or anything. Stiles was okay with that, it made sense. He didn’t dwell on it. 

As the days passed leading up to the start of the semester, Stiles kept finding excuses for why Derek hadn’t texted or emailed him. He was busy, obviously. He had things to do. He was probably trying to get used to life without Stiles again. Stiles _was_ pretty disruptive, it would take Derek _days_ to stop missing him, he was sure. 

But every time his phone went off, he checked it immediately. And every time it wasn’t a number he didn’t recognize, he felt a rock settle more concretely in the pit of his stomach. Unbidden, Kate’s words kept coming back to him, about how Derek rolled over whenever anyone was nice to him. Someone showed him the barest hint of kindness and he was gone for them. 

He tried to shrug them off, and even Allison told him not to listen to _anything_ the bitch had said when he admitted this to her, but he couldn’t help wonder... what if she was right? 

A week into his last semester and still no word from Derek, Stiles sat at his computer staring at the website for ‘Hale of a Hill,’ the number _right there_ for him to call. He could call. He’d probably even get Derek if he did, considering he worked the front desk five days a week. He had a five in seven chance of actually hitting him. 

Well, maybe not, since he had coworkers with him. So he had a one in two chance five out of seven to hit Derek. 

He got so far as to actually plugging the number into his phone before shoving it into his pocket without dialling out. Because he was being stupid. He _knew_ he was being stupid. 

Derek had wanted a winter fling, and Stiles was the moron who actually got _feelings_. When he’d left, and said what he had, Derek had probably been trying to be polite, and had just told Stiles what he _wanted_ to hear. After all, Derek had left his phone at home? Since when? In all the time they’d been together, Derek hadn’t _once_ left his phone at home. 

It was probably in his pocket even as he lied right to Stiles’ face. 

Derek probably did this all the time. Stiles had _admitted_ he wasn’t exactly rich, so it wasn’t like he was going to go back again. Derek had probably seen it as an opportunity to have a little fun, fool around with some dumb university kid for two weeks, and then laugh to his friends about it. 

But then _why_ had he introduced him to his family?

Stupid question, because Stiles was in a Werewolf pack, and they were just making sure that he and his weren’t a threat. It wasn’t about him, it had never been about him. It had always been about Scott. He was an Alpha, a _young_ Alpha. They probably wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to be a problem, and hey, if Derek could get information _and_ fuck around while doing so, then why not? Seemed like a good deal. 

By the end of January, Stiles stopped checking his phone every time it went off. He knew it wouldn’t be Derek, so he just didn’t fucking bother. Scott and Allison stopped asking him if he’d heard anything yet, and Lydia stopped trying to convince him to call the hotel. He made her swear up and down on their entire friendship that she would just let it go, and she did, and they didn’t talk about it again. 

In February when Reading Week came around, Scott and Allison went to visit Lydia and Kira at Harvard, and Stiles flew out to Yale to spend the week with Jackson and Danny. Jackson was living with his boyfriend, and while Danny himself had his _own_ boyfriend, they weren’t living together. Though he _did_ have a roommate—which was fucking _Matt_ , of course—Stiles still ended up bunking with Danny since it was less awkward than being around Jackson and his boyfriend, despite not wanting to see fucking Matt. 

Jackson didn’t say anything about the situation, which was unusual for him, but Stiles figured Lydia had threatened to rip off his balls with her fingernails if he dared to bring it up and Lydia was _not_ someone to cross. 

Danny asked about it, but he’d always known when to press and when to let something go, so Stiles figured he was just trying to be _absolutely sure_ that this was the end of it and Stiles was okay. 

“I’m okay,” Stiles confirmed, sitting on the edge of Danny’s bed with Jackson propped up against the headboard behind him and Danny sitting in his desk chair across the room. He could hear Matt getting ready to head to work in the other room, but didn’t worry about it. Stiles knew he was listening, but Matt and his opinions meant nothing to him, so he ignored that fact and just looked between his two friends. 

Jackson looked carefully indifferent. Danny looked sceptical. 

“Seriously,” Stiles insisted, and immediately hated himself for using that word. “I’m totally fine. He wanted a winter fling, and realistically, so did I.” He saw Matt enter the doorway out of the corner of his eye, but ignored him. “If I developed feelings, that’s my problem, not his. He didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Yeah, well,” Matt said dryly from the doorway, “maybe if you weren’t so easy to stick a dick into, and had actually tried _harder_ not to let him fuck you right out of the gate, he actually would’ve bothered to keep your number.” 

Jackson jerked upright at the words, expression furious and Danny turned to Matt sharply with probably an amazing comeback on his lips. 

Neither of them beat Stiles, who crossed the room at record speed and punched Matt so hard across the face that he fell on his ass. Stiles stood over him, then bent down to fist the front of his shirt with both hands, wrenching him off the ground so their faces were inches apart.

Matt’s teeth were stained red with blood and he actually looked scared. He’d probably never been hit before, which was surprising to Stiles considering how much of a fucking _asshole_ he was. 

“Listen very carefully, you rich little fuckboy. I have been _nothing_ but patient with you since the day we met, and I have tried _so hard_ to make this work out of respect for Danny. But I have reached the end of my rope. I am _done_ listening to you act like I am your property, and I am _tired_ of you being a whiny little _shit_ because money isn’t buying you what you want. If you come at me again, if you even _look_ at me again, I will rip your dick off, and shove it down your throat.” 

He shoved Matt hard, making his back hit the ground and his head crack against the wooden floor. Then he stepped over him and left the unit, slamming the door loudly behind him. He could feel his hands shaking with adrenaline, because he didn’t know what kind of person Matt was and if he sued him for assault, Stiles was screwed. 

He doubted it’d get that far. Jackson and Danny would have his back, and Matt knew that. At the end of the day, if sides had to be taken, they would take his no matter what. Matt might be an idiot who didn’t understand the concept of the word ‘no,’ but he wasn’t so blind he didn’t recognize there was loyalty in their pack, and he wasn’t part of it. 

Stiles walked out into the front part of the building, heading towards a row of benches off to the left and taking a seat on the closest empty one, inhaling deeply before rubbing at his face hard and keeping his hands there, elbows resting on his thighs. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there like that until footsteps approached, someone falling down beside him. The person who’d joined him inhaled deeply, then let out a small laugh. 

“I’ve been waiting a year for you to clock that fucker in the face,” Jackson admitted. 

“I’ve been waiting four,” Stiles muttered behind his hands. 

“Yeah, well, better late than never. I’ve always hated that motherfucker.” 

Stiles let his hands slide off his face, turning to Jackson, surprised. “What? I thought you liked him.” 

Jackson’s look was unimpressed. “Really? I look like I want another asshole in our group? No one can asshole like me, it’s an artform, and I was getting tired of him thinking he was better at it than me.” He smirked. “There’s only room for one rich fuckboy in our pack, and I was here first.” 

Stiles let out a startled laugh at that, nudging Jackson slightly. His friend nudged him back a little harder than Stiles was sure he intended, but at least he didn’t send him flying off the bench. 

They sat in silence together for a while, Jackson leaning back slightly and looking up at the sky. Stiles just stared out at the building in front of him, wondering if Matt had managed to pick himself up off the floor yet. 

“I’m gonna ask you a question, Stilinski,” Jackson informed him, still looking up at the sky. “I’m only going to ask you once, and then I won’t bring it up again, because Lydia threatened bodily harm and I know she’s vicious enough to follow through.” 

Stiles hummed his agreement, because he definitely wasn’t wrong. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to call the resort? Are you su—”

“I’m sure,” he cut off. Jackson said nothing and Stiles turned to him, eyebrows raised insistently. “I’m sure. It was nothing. He wanted to fuck around, and I was an easy target. It’s fine. _I’m_ fine.” 

Jackson knew he was lying, but he didn’t press the matter and just let it go, the two of them returning to their silence. 

Matt moved out of the unit before Stiles left at the end of the week. 

* * *

He could feel Jessica staring at him. He didn’t have to look over to know it because she was literally just full on _staring_ at him. He wished she would stop, it wasn’t making this any easier.

But he knew _why_ she was staring. Because this was unprecedented, and she was confused, and Laura had come by three times in the past twenty minutes, and his mother had gone into the back room and not come out and he _knew_ , okay! 

He knew this was weird! His co-workers may not know the whole story, but they knew enough to figure out that four times a year, twice per occurrence, Derek disappeared from the front desk for a time. He disappeared for the check-in, and for the check-out. Four times a year, twice in that window of time, he disappeared.

But he was desperate. He was actually fucking _desperate_. 

It had been three months. 

Three months since Stiles had left.

Three months since Derek had found out he was his mate.

Three _fucking_ months of this itchy, achy feeling under his skin. Stiles’ scent had long ago faded from his house and clothes, and every day that passed had Derek slowly losing his mind. He hadn’t realized what it was like, having a mate. Hadn’t known how much it sucked being away from them like this.

His wolf kept pacing in the back of his mind, worrying about him. Not even about the possibility of Stiles having moved on—which was a _big_ fucking possibility because who _wouldn’t_ want him?!—but also just... was he okay? What if something had happened to him? What if he’d gotten lost on the wrong side of town and was hurt? After all, Derek had found him wandering in the woods, so it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that he’d wind up where he wasn’t supposed to be! Stiles took shit care of his own well-being! 

And that thought _terrified_ him. Because he didn’t _know_ , and he was _never_ going to know and it was slowly but surely driving him fucking _insane_! He needed to find him, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do to achieve that!

After losing Stiles’ number, Derek had spent days scouring the internet for every single Scott McCall he could find, which was the name on the booking for the room he’d been in. None of them lived in Rhode Island, or if they did, it wasn’t listed as such. None of them showed as going to Brown, either. Derek had even gone through every single Scott McCall’s Facebook page in an attempt to find a friend named Stiles. Some profiles were private, but he did what he could with the information he had, and came up empty.

He even tried to find Allison Argent, but already knew that would be a bust, considering what Stiles had told him, but he’d tried anyway. 

His mom had called the credit card company to try and get some information on Scott or Allison, since those were the two credit cards they had on file. She wasn’t supposed to do something like that, but Derek knew she was worried about him, and she was trying whatever she could to help. Predictably, they wouldn’t release any information. He appreciated the attempt, but he’d known it wouldn’t pan out. 

He almost wanted to just fly to Brown and scour the entire campus until he found Stiles, but he knew that would be insane, and probably wouldn’t even _work_. The campus was huge according to his research online, and he didn’t even know if Stiles took online classes or actually attended anything on site. Even if he went, he could be there for months and _still_ not find him.

Cora told him his parents had also considered hiring someone to try and find Stiles, but they didn’t really have much to go on aside from he went to Brown, grew up in a small town in what Derek _thought_ was in California, and he had a friend named Scott McCall who was dating an Allison Argent. 

He didn’t think they’d done anything with that route yet, but he honestly didn’t know if it would do much good. He honestly wondered if it might not be easier to find Allison’s family. He knew her last name, at least, and how many Argents could there be in California? 

Apparently a lot, according to Google.

They were still figuring out options, but in the meantime... well, Derek was kind of desperate. And when Laura had asked, rather incredulously, “ _This_ desperate?!” Derek had replied that, yes, _this_ desperate. 

Laura didn’t understand. She’d found her mate, she _had_ him, she’d always had him. Derek had found and _lost_ his, and it felt like someone had ripped off his arm. Like now that he’d experienced having one, it was impossible to go back and he had to _find_ him before he literally lost his God damn _mind_!

So he stood there, behind the counter, watching the clock while Jessica stared at him, nervous and worried. 

He knew when she entered the building. Knew when she was finally in sight. Jessica got more fidgety, glancing at him and saying his name quietly, as if in warning.

But he already knew. He already _knew_ she was coming. But this was all he had. It was the only fucking thing he had left!

So when she stopped in front of him, Derek looked up into her surprised but pleased face, and spoke the only words he ever wanted to say to her ever again in his life.

“Do you have Allison’s number?”

Kate looked surprised. Confused as well, but she recovered quickly, smiling cruelly at him. “What?” she asked around a laugh, leaning forward on the counter. “Why do you want her number? How do you even _know_ about Allison?”

Derek said nothing, continuing to stare at her, waiting for her to answer his question.

“Oh wait, that’s right. You knew her friend, didn’t you? Meddlesome little boy who didn’t know better than to leave well enough alone.”

Derek ignored the spike of panic that shot through him at those words. Kate was talking about the past, not about anything recent. She hadn’t touched Stiles, he was fine.

He was totally, _totally_ fine!

“Aw, what’s the matter Derek? Have a crush?” She smirked at him, and while she chose her words carefully, she didn’t really try _that_ hard. “Did he decide he didn’t want to date a monster after all?” 

Christ, Jessica was _right_ there, for fuck’s sake. Derek ignored her though, because she suddenly seemed to be very, _very_ interested in whatever was on her screen, so he honestly wasn’t sure she was even listening. 

“Do you have her number or not?” Derek demanded, because this sucked enough as it was without her rubbing salt in the wound. 

She tapped her perfectly manicured nails against the counter, eying him with interest before smiling again. She was going for sweet, he was sure, but all he saw in her expression was malice.

“What would you give me for it?” 

Derek didn’t know. 

He didn’t know what that number was worth, just that he desperately needed it. And he was scared to let Kate know how _much_ he needed it. If she had it, what would she make him do to get it? And even worse, what if she made him do something and _didn’t_ have it? 

He didn’t want to give her this. He didn’t want her to know more than she already did. Stiles was something that belonged to him, something personal and private and _important_ and he didn’t want her to know about it. He didn’t want her to ruin something else in his life with her dirty hands. 

Evidently he’d been silent too long, because a positively vicious smile crossed her features. It made his stomach drop, but he kept his expression completely neutral.

He was pretty sure he was fooling no one, least of all her. 

“Oh sweetheart.” She reached out, as if to touch his cheek and he jerked back out of reach. That reaction seemed to have her smile widen. “Even if I _did_ have it, I wouldn’t give it to you. Because that look on your face? It’s just way too delicious for me to even _think_ about giving you want you want, because then that expression would go away.” She leaned forward then, lowering her voice as if she were telling him a secret. “There’s nothing I like more than seeing a wild animal writhing in agony.” 

Derek clenched his jaw, not knowing why he’d been stupid enough to think that maybe, _just_ maybe Kate could be a fucking decent human being for _once_ in her fucking life. He was an idiot for being that stupid, and pathetic for being so naive _again_. 

Shifting his gaze to the computer so he could check her in and get her out of his sight, he felt a hand close on his shoulder, squeezing almost tightly enough to hurt, and his mother spoke.

“I’m very sorry, but we appear to be fully booked.”

Derek turned to her, but his mother was smiling pleasantly at Kate. She was smiling back not _quite_ as pleasantly.

“Good thing I made a reservation,” she sneered.

“Your booking was cancelled.” Talia’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Were you not aware? We do apologize for the inconvenience, but regrettably there isn’t space for you here at this time.” 

Kate stared his mother down, which was actually laughable, because his mother was an Alpha Werewolf and Kate was a Hunter with no friends, no family, and no allies. She was lucky to have her father’s inheritance, really. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Kate asked darkly, her smile turning menacing again. 

“I should’ve done it years ago,” was Talia’s easy response. “We don’t need your business, and I’ve grown tired of seeing your face here. You’re no longer welcome. I’m sure you can see yourself out.”

“I will fucking _ruin_ you,” Kate hissed threateningly.

Talia smiled, leaned forward, and while she didn’t flash her eyes, Derek could tell it was a near thing. “I would _love_ to see you try. Get off my property before I have you escorted from it.” 

The two women stared at each other for a long while, then finally, Kate scoffed, gave Talia a disgusted once-over, and turned back to the exit, pulling her rolling suitcase along behind her. 

“You’ll regret this,” she called over her shoulder. 

“I don’t think I will,” Talia informed her pleasantly. Her tight grip on Derek’s shoulder was the only indication of how positively _furious_ she was.

The other guests didn’t seem to really notice anything amiss, a few of them turning at the shouts but not paying much more attention than that. Only the staff had frozen, because they knew Talia, and they knew enough about Kate to know there was history there. 

Kate had to side-step the workers who were still cordoning off the far side of the lobby, almost tripping one of them up since she’d practically bowled into him. They were getting started on creating the second alcove for that library unit that Stiles had suggested. Derek loved and hated that, because if he never saw him again, that stupid library would be right in his line of sight, and would remind him of the mate he’d managed to fucking _lose_ for the rest of his life. 

“Watch it,” Kate snapped, as if it was the worker’s fault. Derek scowled, annoyed that she was being rude to someone who didn’t deserve it, but he figured maybe he’d just buy the guy a coffee later to make up for it. Her bad mood was pretty much his fault, since his mother had only chased her out for his benefit. 

Derek watched Kate slam her way out the door angrily, almost breaking one since they were automatic doors, and a part of him wondered if it was honestly going to be that easy. He knew it actually might be, Kate couldn’t come after them without outing the Supernatural world, and that was probably the number one rule in the Hunter’s code. Even Kate wouldn’t break _that_ one, despite the others she already had. Breaking rule number one was asking to have the entire Hunter community come after her. 

When the doors slid shut behind her, Derek turned back to his mother. She was still staring at the exit, expression stony, and he knew she was listening to make sure Kate actually left. Derek didn’t bother, just watching his mother’s expression. When he heard a car peel out, and the hand on his shoulder loosened, he relaxed and realized... she was gone. 

Like, _actually_ gone. She wouldn’t be coming back. Not under her own name anyway, and even if she did, the second she walked in for her fake booking, the staff would turn her away. He was fairly certain his mother was going to send out a blast email to everyone in the resort saying she was _not_ welcome as soon as she walked away. 

“Thanks,” he said quietly, because he knew she’d done it for him, even though she didn’t have to. Money was money, after all, even if Kate was a fucking bitch. 

“I should’ve done it sooner,” Talia admitted, finally shifting her gaze to him, expression softening. “I just didn’t want her to feel like she’d won.” 

“I know.” 

Talia smiled and lifted her hand, smoothing his hair back gently off his forehead, even though he was pretty sure he didn’t have any hanging down on it. It was something she just did, one of those motherly touches that made her feel better as much as it did him. 

“I’m sorry she couldn’t help.”

“I didn’t honestly expect her to,” Derek admitted. “It was just a last-ditch effort.” 

“I know, sweetie.” She kept brushing his hair back, expression soft, and he could suddenly see how so very _tired_ she was. 

What was happening right now, with him and Stiles, it was exhausting her. Because she could see how much he was hurting, and he knew from prior experience that if there was one thing his mother didn’t handle very well, it was her children hurting. 

“Did you—want to step away for a bit? I’m sure I’ll be okay if you need to take a couple hours.” Jessica’s voice said tentatively from behind his mother. 

Talia turned, and his co-worker winced slightly, looking uncomfortable. Honestly, as annoying as her hitting on him could be sometimes, the fact that she’d asked him that was really nice. Actually, she’d been _less_ annoying lately, and it suddenly occurred to him that he honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d hit on him. It was like she’d noticed, same as everyone else, that something had changed, and she was just trying to be supportive as best she could without fully understanding what was wrong. 

“Thanks Jess,” Derek said, managing to offer her a smile. “It’s fine. We have a lot of check-ins today because of March break anyway, and spending time here is better than being alone with my thoughts.” 

Jessica seemed surprised at receiving such an honest answer, and it made Derek realize that he really wasn’t very open and friendly with the other people he worked with. Jessica had been working the front desk with him for at _least_ two years, and he was pretty sure Kevin had been working with him even longer. 

He didn’t actually know very much about either of them... 

“I can ask Laura to switch out with you,” Talia offered. “She doesn’t have anything happening for the next few weeks while we transition from winter to summer events.” 

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Honestly. It’s fine.” 

“Okay.” Talia kissed his cheek, patted his arm softly, and smiled. “It’s not over. You understand this, yes?” 

He nodded, because he knew his mother wasn’t going to just let things slide. Until he at least got to _speak_ to Stiles, he knew she wasn’t going to stop trying to help him find him. 

Smiling, she nodded once, then turned to leave, apologizing to Jessica for the trouble. That seemed to fluster her, since Talia owned the damn place, but Derek just laughed at how awkward she reacted and got settled on his cushy stool once more, letting out a sigh and raking one hand through his hair. 

It wasn’t over yet. Just another dead-end, that was all. He was sure something would work out eventually. 

His life couldn’t suck _that_ much. 

* * *

There was no way his life sucked _that_ much! 

“You’re joking, right?” he dead-panned, staring up at Scott from his desk chair. His friend looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to foot with his hands buried in his pockets. 

He kind of looked the same way he had back in middle school while apologizing to Stiles for trying to rip his face off after his first full moon. 

Testament to how shitty the words that had just come out of his mouth were that he was reacting the same way. 

“I’m sorry,” Scott insisted, turning the puppy dog eyes up a little bit more, like a silent plea for Stiles not to be mad at him. “It’s just, after the trip, Allison gushed to her parents, and I was talking to my mom, and for a while at the beginning before—you know...” he trailed off and yes. Yes, Stiles _did_ know, thank you. 

Before Derek decided he wasn’t worth his time. Yes, Stiles knew quite well, _thank you_ , Scott! 

“You were talking to your dad about it for a bit, too,” Scott finished lamely, wincing slightly. “It’s not like we _told_ them to do this, it kind of just... they heard so much about it that I guess they got together and looked it up.” 

Stiles stared at Scott for a moment longer, then rubbed his face hard with both hands, resisting the urge to scream at the universe for this injustice. He dragged his hands down, pulling at his cheeks, and forced himself to breathe like a normal human being and not completely lose his shit. 

“We tried to get them to change it,” Scott said quietly, almost desperately. “Allison told her parents that Kate went there, hoping it would make them change the plans, but all that did was make her dad _more_ convinced he wanted to go in case he had to intervene in one of her new attempts to kill his daughter.” 

“This can’t be happening,” Stiles insisted, turning back to his desk and resisting the urge to just brain himself against the wooden surface. 

“Stiles, we _tried_. They just—it didn’t work. Allison used Kate and that backfired. I tried to tell my mom that money was tight, but she just got a raise at work, and my dad agreed to fund a lot of the trip since it’s supposed to be a present. He even paid for _you_ as a way to try to earn some of my forgiveness, so I couldn’t even talk your dad out of it.” 

Stiles let his forehead fall onto his desk. He almost slammed it down hard enough to knock himself out, but managed to refrain. 

Honestly, the entire thing was really nice. Ignoring the location, the fact that his dad, Scott’s mom and Allison’s parents had all gotten together to plan this surprise graduation trip for them was actually _amazing_. 

Being Hunters, the sheriff and a nurse in a town like Beacon Hills, where all of them knew about the Supernatural, it was only a matter of time before they became friendly. Sure, the others were all in the pack, but the only other parents who knew about the Supernatural in their group were Kira’s, and they already had plans for their daughter as a graduation gift. 

So Scott’s mom, Stiles’ dad and Allison’s parents had decided they wanted to have a joint trip, the seven of them together, somewhere fun and at the same time relaxing. Some parent-child bonding time as a group. Which sounded fucking _amazing_ and like the best idea. 

Except for the destination they’d chosen. Unbeknownst to their three children. 

Because apparently, they’d talked up Hale of a Hill _so_ much after their winter trip that when the four parents had been discussing where to take their children on this surprise graduation trip, they’d looked up activities and had decided that seemed like it would be extremely rewarding. 

So the sheriff had called in to book a reservation, managing to snag one room with two queens for the Argent family, and a two bedroom suite with two queens each for himself, Melissa, Scott and Stiles. It sounded similar to the suite their group had booked in the winter, except without the bed-sharing in this case. 

Which, again, sounded _amazing_ and wonderful and he was _so_ thrilled to be doing this! It’d be really fun to spend time with his dad, who _definitely_ needed a vacation. And so did Melissa, really. And it would just be really great for the four adults to get out of Beacon Hills for a while, have a good time, _relax_. 

Stiles was all for this plan, he was excited about it, even. 

Just— _why_?! 

_Why_ did it have to be _there_ , of all places?! 

There were hundreds of thousands of places to choose from world-wide. Hell, there were probably hundreds of thousands of places to choose from in the United States _alone_. So out of everywhere, _why_ did everyone hate him and choose _that_ place?

He didn’t want to go back. He didn’t want to see Derek. He was supposed to be _celebrating_ his fucking graduation from university! He had a _degree_ and he’d worked _hard_ for it! Laboured and suffered and clawed his way emotionally and financially to the finish line. Even if he had no idea what he wanted to do with the rest of his life yet, at least he’d achieved this milestone, and he wanted to celebrate and have _fun_. 

Instead, he was going to be stuck trying to pretend Derek wasn’t sitting at the counter every time he went to the lobby. He was going to have to _ignore_ that six months ago he’d spent more time with him than with his own friends. That he’d had marks on his skin for _days_ after his return, and had actually _fallen_ for someone who’d thought he was just a stupid kid to fuck around with. 

Stiles didn’t _want_ to go back there. He really didn’t. And he hated that he didn’t have a fucking choice, because he knew Scott wouldn’t have finally come to tell him about it if not for the fact that he’d done all he could to change it. 

He wondered how long he’d known. How long he and Allison had been holding onto this information. Their exams had ended earlier than his, today having been his last one. Their parents had probably called them to give them the good news, just like he was expecting a call from his dad later tonight. It was probably why Scott had finally come to warn him, so that Stiles wouldn’t have a negative reaction on the phone later when the words slapped him right in the face.

His dad was going to be so excited, thinking he was about to give Stiles a real present, having absolutely no idea he was actually ruining his entire graduation. 

Fuck, Stiles kind of hoped he failed one of his exams, just so he could argue that he shouldn’t be allowed to go. Couldn’t celebrate a graduation from university if he didn’t graduate, right? 

“Allison and I can—shield you?” Scott said uncertainly, wince clear in his voice. “According to my mom, because of when we finish school and what all their schedules were, we’re actually arriving two days earlier than them. When we go, Allison and I can check-in, you can just wait in the car, and when it’s parked downstairs, you can like—wear a hoodie with the hood up, we’ll just sneak in with you, keep you out of sight.” 

“He’s a Werewolf,” Stiles reminded him, forehead grinding against the desk. “He’ll smell me.” 

Scott went silent, evidently having forgotten that. Neither of them spoke for a while longer, then Stiles inhaled deeply and sat up, slapping both hands on his desk and turning to Scott. 

“You know what? Fuck him. This is _my_ graduation, and my dad planned this for _me_. And he did it out of love, and because he wanted to make me happy, so you know what? I’m gonna be happy.” He nodded resolutely, turning back to his computer. “I’m gonna be happy. This is gonna be fun. I’ll spend time with you, and with Melissa, and with dad. We’re gonna do fun things, and Derek can just—sit behind his desk. I’m not injured this time, so I can just ignore him and he can do his job and I’ll just hang out with you guys.” 

When Scott answered, Stiles could tell he was propping his voice up. “Yeah, man! Yeah, it’s gonna be fun! They have ATVs—well, they call them RZRs, but it’s basically an ATV. And you and Allison can go horseback riding if you want!” 

Stiles slammed his hands on his desk and turned back to Scott, who looked a little unsure. “Fuck yeah we can! I love horses! We are gonna have the _best_ time. Just you, and me, and Ally, and our parents.” 

“Yeah!” Scott agreed, smiling a little awkwardly. “It’ll be super fun.” 

“Right.” Stiles faced his computer again. “And I am going to get _super_ drunk before we get on the plane.” 

“I—will bring a barf bag,” Scott sighed. 

It would be fine. 

It would be totally, absolutely, one-hundred percent fine. 

He didn’t have to see Derek. He didn’t have to even _think_ about him.

Hell, maybe he’d be gone! Maybe he’d have forgotten all _about_ Stiles! Maybe he was worrying for nothing. 

Not like he was going to have his heart crushed into nothing at the mere sight of him, of course not. 

Nothing to worry about at all... 

“Fuck,” he muttered. 

“Yeah,” Scott agreed, ever so helpfully. 

What a bro. 

* * *

“Have you read this one?” Malia asked, slapping a book down on the counter in front of him. 

Derek looked up at her, a little annoyed. “Considering almost all the books are mine, yes, I’ve read it.” 

“What’s it about?” she asked, flipping it around so she could stare down at the cover. 

“Read the back.” 

“Why don’t you just tell me?”

“Why don’t you just read the back?” he demanded, frustration creeping into his tone. 

“It’s _easier_ if you just _tell_ me,” she insisted, giving him a look. “The back isn’t going to advertise whether or not it’s garbage.” 

“We have different taste, what does it matter what I tell you?” Derek demanded. “Just read the back!” 

“You are _so_ fucking grouchy,” Malia insisted, rolling her eyes and pulling away, heading back across the lobby to the book alcove. 

Derek glared at her retreating back, annoyance rising when he saw her lean against the counter and have the new guy put the book away _without bothering to read the back_. 

He heard a small cough from beside him and turned sharply to glare at Kevin. “What?” he demanded. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Kevin insisted, eyes on his screen and hands raised in surrender. “I was just sitting here. Quietly. Minding my own business.” 

“She can read the back,” Derek snapped again, feeling judged. 

Malia had _eyes_ , and was capable of _reading_. There was no reason for her to come over here and bother him just because she was too lazy to figure out like a _normal person_ based on the synopsis whether or not the book was to her liking. What did she want, a detailed annotation? A filing system? A tagging option?! 

Kevin didn’t say anything, eyebrows raised and pressing his lips together while resolutely keeping his gaze locked on his screen. 

Derek turned away from him, crossing his arms and scowling, annoyed at everything. 

He knew he was being a little... _unkind_ lately. That may have been putting it lightly, but it was hard for him to rein in his anger and resentment and annoyance most days. 

As predicted, he was stuck staring at Stiles’ idea every fucking day since it had finished being built at the end of April, and he wished more than anything that the front desk faced the fucking café alcove instead. 

He didn’t like staring at a reminder of Stiles when everything about his life basically reminded him of Stiles. He’d stopped eating applesauce, because every time he did, it made him think of how Stiles had made him pancakes with applesauce that first morning. He didn’t eat breakfast sandwiches anymore, because Stiles had been making them for him at the house. 

He’d been eating those two items for a majority of his life, and two weeks with Stiles had made him unable to stomach them anymore because he didn’t want to _think_ about him. He didn’t want to think about Stiles ever again, because it _hurt_. 

It fucking _hurt_ to think about him. It had been six months. Six fucking months, and Stiles hadn’t even _tried_ to touch base. And that made him angry. And upset. But mostly angry. 

Stiles was human, he had no idea what it was like to find and lose a mate like this. Really, Stiles could’ve easily looked up the resort’s number and called. Fucking _emailed_ or something. Just poked around to ask what was going on!

He knew it wasn’t fair, because were their roles reversed, Derek knew he’d have thought what Stiles was probably thinking, too. That it was something Derek did all the time, hooked up with guests, and then basically waved goodbye and marked another conquest off on his tally system. 

Derek hated that Stiles thought that about him. He hated that Stiles had obviously not touched base because he was thinking the worst.

It sucked even more that Derek _knew_ he was thinking that. Because everything... all the things that had happened, every word out of Stiles’ mouth, all the conversations they’d had... it was all the truth. Stiles honestly didn’t see how amazing he was. He didn’t think he was worth _anything_ , and hadn’t even really believed Derek wanted him. 

And Stiles had never once lied about any of this. He’d admitted he wanted this, ‘whatever they had,’ and had been the one to give him his number. Stiles had initiated all of that, so he’d _proven_ he wanted to try this, to keep in touch, to see where things could go from here. 

Derek was the asshole in this scenario, and he hated that he’d hurt him, as unintentional as it was. And he hated that he couldn’t _find_ him.

And he hated that Stiles hadn’t _tried_. Hadn’t even emailed to call him a flaming asshole. Hadn’t done _anything_. He’d just... accepted that Derek was a dick and moved on.

Fuck, he _hated_ that! 

Starting to get worked up again by staring at the stupid library alcove, Derek instead focussed his attention back on his computer, clicking open the schedule to review the upcoming check-ins. 

They had seven in the next hour or so and he clicked on them all to check them, just for something to do. 

A room with two queens under Paxton. A two-bedroom suite for six people under Jefferson. Another room with two queens under O’Brien. 

He frowned when it looked like there was a double booking, but realized it was the same person who’d just gotten two different rooms. A two-bedroom suite for four people, which meant one person per bed, and a room with two queens down the hall, both booked under Stilinski. 

He clicked around to see why they hadn’t put the suite and room side by side, just because he had nothing better to do, and saw that at the time of the booking there’d already been someone in the room next door. Since it was actually empty due to a cancellation, Derek figured he’d just move the single room down so it was right next to the suite. Clearly this group was all together, though he had to wonder why they didn’t just all share the suite. 

Someone approached the counter, and Kevin very eagerly and enthusiastically called them over, clearly wanting someone to talk to other than Derek. Which was fine, he was busy fixing things up anyway. 

One of the other rooms included a toddler, and he knew toddlers were the _worst_ so he moved them from the middle of the floor to the far end where they had less rooms booked in an attempt to save the other guests from the screaming and tantrums that were sure to follow the child around. 

It was still early in the summer, so they had a lot of space. They tended to get busier in July because high schools were out by then. June tended to be university students and people who pulled their kids out of school early. 

He was still in the process of reconfiguring people, Kevin chatting away to the couple beside him, when a shadow loomed over him. 

Great. He had to actually work now. Awesome. 

Inhaling so he could give the usual spiel, the words stuck in his throat at the scent that hit him. 

It was subtle, and kind of muted, likely because it wasn’t _this_ person’s scent, but it was still there, underneath, hidden beneath layers and layers of clothing and what smelled like really bad cologne, like the person in front of him had tried to cover it up. 

Derek’s eyes snapped up, locking with a pair of brown ones that looked like they’d rather have waited on Kevin. 

“Reservation under Stilin—”

“You’re Stiles’ friend,” Derek cut off, straightening instantly and glancing at the girl beside him. It was—it was Scott and Allison! Scott McCall and Allison Argent! It was _them_! It was Stiles’ _friends_! 

Holy _fucking_ shit! 

Scott’s expression shuttered slightly, like he’d been hoping Derek wouldn’t have recognized him, but he didn’t answer and just said, “Stilinski?” 

“I need Stiles’ number,” Derek told him, ignoring the clear request to get checked-in so he could leave. “I need his number right now.” 

“Why?” Scott asked, and some of the hardness in his eyes softened a little. “He doesn’t—”

Derek stood up, stool falling backwards and clattering loudly against the ground. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like his skin was on _fire_ , and like he was _seconds_ away from losing his fucking mind. He was _getting_ that number, even if he had to drag it out of Scott by way of torture.

Reaching across the counter, he grabbed the front of Scott’s shirt, and then half-wrenched him over it so they were almost face to face. 

Allison let out a startled shout. The couple beside him cursed and scrambled away urgently. Kevin screamed, “Dude, what the actual _fuck_?!” 

Derek ignored them. He didn’t care. He did _not_ care. All that mattered in this moment was that Scott McCall, Stiles’ best friend, was in front of him, and he had his number. 

And Derek really, _really_ needed that number. 

He didn’t think about the fact that Scott was an Alpha. He didn’t think about how this looked to any of the other guests. He didn’t think about _anything_. The brief hints of Stiles’ scent had his wolf clawing desperately to be released, and it was taking _everything_ he had to stay in control. 

“I. Need. His. Number,” Derek repeated, enunciating each word slowly and carefully, not quite able to hold back a growl.

“Yeah, Mrs. Hale? I don’t—I just—please. Please.” Kevin sounded like he was about to have a panic attack, and normally, Derek would care. He would, honestly, because Kevin was a good guy, and while they weren’t friends, he liked him. 

He didn’t want him to have a panic attack. But _Derek_ was going to have a fucking panic attack if Scott didn’t give him Stiles’ number _right now_. 

The other Werewolf was staring at him stunned, eyes a little wide and half-way over the counter, hands gripping at Derek’s wrists like he wasn’t sure what to do, because anything he tried might out both of them as being _not quite normal_. 

He could see Scott beginning to tense up, feeling threatened, and a low growl began to vibrate up his chest when Allison suddenly appeared beside him, slapping one hand on the counter to get his attention. 

“He’s in the car!” 

Derek turned to her instantly, Scott’s growling intensifying, likely at the perceived threat of Derek staring down his girlfriend. 

Maybe she was _his_ mate, Derek didn’t know. Frankly, he didn’t care. 

“What?” 

“Stiles,” she said, voice a little steadier now that she saw she had his attention. “He’s in the car. Outside. He didn’t want to come in.” 

Stiles was in the car. Outside. 

The words seemed to take entirely too long to register, but once they did, he let go of Scott immediately, who fell back to the ground on the other side of the counter, stumbling slightly. Allison caught his arm to steady him, but Derek had already moved around the side of the counter and ran for the door. 

Stiles was in the car. 

Outside. 

Stiles was _outside_. 

_Stiles was **outside**!_

Derek broke one of the doors on his way out of the resort, the glass shattering when it hit the ground. 

* * *

Stiles squinted at his screen, eyes scanning the team he was up against and chewing thoughtfully on his bottom lip. They had two healers, but he had a buff-booster _and_ a character with temporary death immunity. If he was careful about who he took out first, he could... maybe win? Possibly? 

He scratched at his head, sitting sideways in the car with the back door open and his feet on the ground, waiting for Scott and Allison to come back. They hadn’t used the A/C on their way up the mountain, the windows rolled down so they could enjoy fresh air, but it was hot as _balls_ right now, and he hadn’t wanted to sit in the stuffy car with all the windows shut. 

Derek may have been a Werewolf, but there was no way he could smell Stiles from all the way out here, and he _certainly_ shouldn’t have been able to smell him on Scott or Allison after he’d doused them both with cologne. Scott had whined. Allison had just laughed about it. She was a good sport that way. 

He heard a commotion behind him, what sounded like something _really_ big breaking, then running footsteps. As a shadow approached, he tilted his head slightly, still staring at his phone and unconcerned with what was happening behind him. 

“Hey, are we all checke—” 

Stiles let out a shout when the front of his shirt was grabbed and he was wrenched to his feet, dropping his phone and hearing it land on the ground beside his left sneaker. Arms were wrapped tightly around him, almost hard enough to constrict his breathing, and someone’s face was buried in his neck. 

Every inch of him was shaking. 

For a few seconds, Stiles just stood there, hands at his sides and brain trying to catch up to what had just happened. He turned his head when he heard _more_ running footsteps and saw Scott tearing across the front of the resort towards him, Allison following a little more slowly. It looked like one of the glass doors leading inside had shattered because it was currently lying in a thousand pieces on the ground in front of the entrance.

Stiles blinked, then slowly turned to see who was holding him like they were scared he was going to disappear if they let him go. 

He knew who it had to be, even before he’d fully focussed on him. Of course he did. His brain just hadn’t known what to think about it, because this didn’t make any sense. 

Derek hadn’t... called him. Or emailed him. He’d ignored him the second he’d left. So why was he holding him so tightly he actually threatened to break a few bones. 

Literally, Stiles felt like he could hear them creaking. 

“Maybe you uh, should’ve called,” Scott offered, having stopped beside him, hovering slightly, like he was worried Derek was a threat, but also conscious of the fact that he _wasn’t_. “I think he was hoping you’d call.”

Stiles heard running footsteps on his other side and turned his head in time for Laura to skid to a halt a few feet from him, having come around the side of the building. Her expression shifted from worry to shock to absolute _delight_ in the span of a second. 

“Stiles!” She threw her hands out towards him. “Holy shit! Stiles! You’re here! It’s you!” 

“What is going on?” Stiles asked uncertainly. He realized he still had his hands at his sides, and it suddenly felt very strange for him not to be hugging Derek back considering how tightly he was hanging on to him. 

Derek still had his face buried in his neck, squeezing him tightly. When Stiles grunted, he loosened his grip, but not by much, dragging his lips up along Stiles’ throat, across his cheek and up to the side of his head. Stiles heard him inhale deeply before nosing at Stiles’ temple. 

“You came back.” 

“I—yeah. My dad...” Stiles felt very confused. 

Derek’s hands dragged up his back, across his shoulders, up his throat and to his face, holding him a little too tightly with one hand on either cheek as he pulled his face back and just _stared_ at him. 

“You came _back_.” 

Oh, those were lips. Those were definitely lips. On his. That was definitely Derek kissing him. 

This wasn’t confusing, not at all. 

Still, as completely jumbled as his thoughts were right now, he couldn’t help but melt into it. Because fuck he’d _missed_ him! He could lie all he wanted, but he hadn’t fooled anyone. He’d missed Derek so much, and it had _hurt_ not hearing from him, and he was _here_ and he was _kissing_ him like a man starved of oxygen who was finding all the air he needed to breathe in Stiles’ mouth. 

Stiles didn’t mean to close his eyes, but he did. He melted back against the car, the hot metal burning against his skin through his shirt, and brought his hands up to tug at the bottom of Derek’s Henley, pulling him closer. 

“Did I miss something? I swear, is this a movie? What the hell is happening?” 

Stiles was pretty sure that was one of Derek’s co-workers. The guy he usually worked with at the front desk. Kenneth or something, he didn’t know. 

Didn’t really care, either. 

Someone cleared their throat relatively loudly, and from very close, and Derek pulled back. Stiles tried to chase his lips, until he opened his eyes and realized Talia was standing two feet away, looking amused, but also like she’d been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders and had finally managed to shrug it off. 

“Hello Stiles,” she said, offering him a small, pleased smile. “It’s nice to see you again.” 

“Derek sure seems to think so,” Laura said with a cackle. Talia didn’t say anything, but she _did_ almost laugh. She managed to hold it back though, eyes shifting to Derek. 

“I’ll call into town to have the door replaced. Perhaps a bit more care next time?”

Derek winced and offered her a stilted nod. Talia smiled back pleasantly, looking at Stiles once more and then back to her son. 

“It would seem you and Stiles might like to head to the house for a chat? I think you may have some things to discuss. Laura appears to have some free time, I’m sure she can fill in for the rest of your shift.” 

Laura let out what could’ve been a sound of protest, but she didn’t actually _say_ anything, which suggested she was going to do it, but be _very_ unhappy about it. 

Derek kept one hand on Stiles’ face while the other slid down his arm to his hand, gripping it tightly. He made sure Stiles couldn’t break free before letting his other hand drop, like he was worried not having at least _one_ firm grip on him at all times would have him disappear into nothingness. 

“You okay?” Scott asked when Derek started to walk around the side of the car, effectively dragging Stiles along with him. 

“Uh, yeah?” Stiles turned to look at his friend, almost losing his footing since Derek was walking a _touch_ too fast for his puny human legs. “Grab my phone? Don’t run it over!” he called back, then faced forward so he could keep up with Derek. 

When they were halfway between the resort and the house, Stiles tugged on Derek’s hand, both to get him to _slow the fuck down_ before he outed Werewolves to the multitude of people who were watching them after his crazy mad dash to wrench Stiles out of his car, and also because he was kind of hurting his hand. 

Stiles was used to superhuman strength after years of being around Jackson and Scott, but Derek seemed like he was trying to break some bones, and Stiles was _actually_ in one piece this time around, he wanted the ability to do fun things during this vacation! 

“Oh my God, are you trying to end up _dragging_ me along the ground behind you?” Stiles demanded. “Slow _down_ , dude. I’m not going to disappear if you don’t reach the house in the next five seconds.” 

Derek didn’t say anything, and he didn’t turn, but he _did_ , thankfully, slow down to a more reasonable pace. Stiles actually managed to walk _beside_ him instead of getting dragged along behind him the rest of the way. 

When they reached the Hale house, Derek brought them around the front this time instead of the back, pushing open the door and pulling Stiles inside. He’d never been through the front, so he looked around the entrance briefly while Derek continued to tug him insistently through the house. He tolerated it a bit more here, nobody could see them. 

As soon as they stepped into the kitchen, Derek turned to face him, Stiles almost walking into him since he hadn’t expected the abrupt halt. 

“My pants got washed.” 

Stiles stared at him. “That’s good?” he asked uncertainly. 

“What?” Derek frowned. “No, I—” He let out a frustrated growl, raking his free hand through his hair in agitation, the other still clenched tightly around Stiles’. “My _pants_. The ones I was wearing, they got washed.” 

“I have no idea why we’re talking about your laundry right now.” 

“ _No_ ,” Derek insisted, seeming even _more_ frustrated. “Stiles, your _number_! It was written down on a piece of paper! That I put in the pocket of my pants! That got _washed_!” 

It took a second for those words to actually make it into his brain in the correct order, because he kept hearing Derek talking about washing his pants, and he couldn’t figure out what that had to do with _literally_ anything until the sentences reformed properly. 

Stiles had given him his number on a piece of paper. 

The piece of paper had gone into his pocket. 

The pants the piece of paper were in had gone through the wash. 

Ergo: Derek’s pants got washed with Stiles’ number still in the pocket. 

Which was why he hadn’t... called him... 

“Oh,” Stiles said. He owed Lydia a _huge_ apology. 

She was never going to let him live this down. 

“Why didn’t you _call_?” Derek asked. He sounded angry, and frustrated, and _annoyed_ , but he didn’t look any of those things. He looked almost confused, and hurt. Like he didn’t understand. Like he just wanted to understand why Stiles hadn’t reached out when he hadn’t heard from him. “You could’ve—the resort. Called or emailed or _something_.” 

Stiles opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again. “I thought—I figured it was just... something you did. I didn’t want to reach out and have you ignore me, or—I don’t know.” He sighed and raked his free hand through his hair, feeling just as agitated as Derek looked. “I don’t know,” he said again, because he didn’t know what else _to_ say. 

“You thought it was a winter fling,” Derek said quietly. 

“Yeah. Like, just something you guys did out here for kicks.” He shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know what you guys do for fun.” 

“Yes you do.” Derek shook his head, letting out a small laugh and rubbing at his mouth with his free hand. “You _saw_ it. Stiles, we—are _so_ boring. We play card games and board games and have trivia night. We go running in the woods, and take walks, and watch Netflix and _read_. We are just—so _boring_ and _ordinary_. None of us would ever fuck around with a guest just for fun.” His hand tightened around Stiles’. “Trust me, I am the absolute _last_ person to fuck around with a guest for fun. I live as far away from people as I _literally_ can, did you _really_ think I saw you that night in the woods and thought, ‘hey, wouldn’t it be fun to just totally fuck with this guy’s head’?” 

“I mean—no,” Stiles admitted, because he felt like he knew Derek better than that. As much as he didn’t know about him, he knew at least _that_ much. “But—I mean, I told you! Things like this don’t usually work out in my favour. You can excuse me a little bit for thinking this was kind of too good to be true.” 

Derek’s free hand came up to cradle his cheek and he took a few steps forward, forcing Stiles back until he hit the wall beside the kitchen doorway. Then he closed the distance, kissing him softly once, then again. Then _again_. He pressed his forehead to Stiles’ for a moment, eyes closed, and just breathed. Stiles was going kind of cross-eyed staring at him, but he didn’t stop looking at him. 

His thumb was brushing lightly against Stiles’ cheek, and for a long while, they just stood there like that. Like Derek was just trying to remember what he felt like, what he smelled like. He seemed so perfectly content to just stand there like this, and Stiles honestly didn’t know what to make of it. 

His chest kind of hurt, and he felt like a fucking moron, because his friends had _said_ to just call. To email, to _do something_. But... his pride hadn’t let him. He’d thought Derek had been making fun of him, and Stiles hadn’t wanted to try poking around to see if maybe it was a misunderstanding. He’d been too proud, and had instead come up with what was the more logical solution in his mind, when all his friends had been telling him what had _really_ happened. 

Not that Derek had washed his pants, but Lydia had specifically said Stiles’ handwriting was awful and that Derek might literally be tearing his hair out trying to read it. Danny had suggested maybe he’d lost the piece of paper, not out of carelessness, but just because... it was a piece of paper. 

And in the end, while not _exactly_ what had happened, Derek hadn’t meant to lose his number, and had been sitting there apparently _waiting_ for Stiles to touch base, not understanding why he hadn’t. 

That made him feel like a dick. Because Stiles really had all the power to fix this, he’d had the ability to contact Derek for literal _months_. And instead, he’d just sat there wallowing in self-pity with his wounded ego and hadn’t considered that Derek might have been thinking the same thing as him.

Stiles was a guest, who’d just been fucking around with him, and had left without a backwards glance. After all, if Derek hadn’t even gotten the number into his phone, who was to say it wouldn’t have been a fake number? Sure, Stiles was the one who’d initiated it, but maybe he was actually a massive _dick_ and had wanted to go the extra step to make the eventual realization that the entire thing had been fake _doubly_ humiliating for Derek. 

That made him feel terrible, because the way Derek had come at him the second he’d realized he was there—Scott _had_ to have said something, because Derek wouldn’t have known otherwise—just _proved_ he’d been wanting to see him again. Like he’d been _desperate_ to see him again.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said quietly, sighing slightly and bringing his free hand up to bury in Derek’s hair, finally closing his eyes as well, their foreheads still pressed together. “Derek, I’m _sorry_.” 

Derek had told him so much about himself. So many things about how people had treated him, what _Kate_ had done to him. Derek didn’t like people, didn’t trust them, and he _definitely_ didn’t fall for them. 

But he’d fallen for Stiles, and for two weeks he’d thought Stiles felt the same way, and then six months had gone by without a word. Jesus, Stiles was a fucking asshole. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again. 

“You came back,” Derek insisted, exhaling slowly, breath fanning out across Stiles’ face. “That’s all that matters to me.” 

“You can thank my dad for that,” Stiles said with a small laugh. “He’s the one who booked the rooms.” 

“Stilinski.” 

“Yup.” 

Derek pulled back then and Stiles opened his eyes. He was still staring at him like Stiles had literally created the fucking universe, and he _so_ didn’t deserve to be stared at that adoringly. 

“Before anything else,” Derek said, and his hand fell from Stiles’ face, shoving into his pocket. “I need your number. And Scott’s. And Allison’s. And your dad’s, and your high school principal’s, and your optometrist’s and basically every single person with a phone who has access to you.” 

Stiles let out a loud laugh at that, rocking forward into Derek slightly so he could nudge him with his shoulder before settling back against the wall. “I’m right here. And we’ll do the number thing first this time.” 

“Right now, I’m not kidding,” Derek insisted, looking down at his phone and typing on it one-handed. “What’s your number?” 

Stiles let out a snort of laughter, but at the same time, it made sense. They’d fucked up once, no sense fucking up a second time, so he recited his number and then watched as Derek called his phone so he would have his. Scott answered it, and Stiles jokingly yelled at him for answering his phone. 

Derek hung up on Scott’s response and that just made Stiles laugh harder. 

“I missed you,” he admitted with a grin. “A lot.” 

“Me too.” Derek shoved his phone back into his pocket, eyes still on Stiles and gaze intense. He still hadn’t let go of Stiles’ other hand. “I looked for you.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean I spent hours on Facebook looking up all the Scott McCalls, and tried to find all the Argents in California, and called Brown University to get information on someone with the first name Stiles, and spoke to _Kate_ to try and get Allison’s number.” 

Stiles stared at him incredulously, mouth hanging open. “What?” 

“I almost flew out to Brown, too. Almost went to try and hunt you down. But I didn’t know if you were being honest about going to school there, they said they didn’t have anyone with that first name.” 

“It’s a nickname,” Stiles said, feeling a little numb. Because what? “I... mentioned that. At game night. My real name—it’s a mouthful. I don’t... really use it.” 

“I’m gonna need it,” Derek informed him. “So that next time you go missing, I can actually _find_ you. My parents almost hired someone to find you. We were literally working through our options to locate you.”

That all sounded _insane_. 

“ _Why_?” he demanded, horrendously confused. 

Derek said nothing for a moment. A _long_ moment, like he realized how crazy what he’d just said must sound to Stiles. Derek just stared at him, thumb of the hand still holding his beginning to brush against his skin, and the other tapping almost nervously against his phone in his pocket. 

Finally, he said, “Do you know much about Werewolf mates?” 

Stiles shrugged one shoulder. “A bit, I guess. Our town has a Druid who found out about Scott and Jackson when we were in high school. He helped us out every now and then with all this Supernatural shit, and he gave us some rundowns on a few things. He mentioned mates off-handedly because he said it’s not super common with bitten wolves, so Jackson and Scott didn’t have to worry about it, but that born wolves usually only have one true—oh.” 

Oh.

That...

 _Oh_. 

“Yeah,” Derek said after a short pause. 

“So...” Stiles didn’t even know what to say. “Explains why I uh, _fit_.” 

“Yeah,” Derek repeated. 

Honestly, he didn’t... feel as surprised as he should have. Stiles felt like maybe he’d kind of already known and just hadn’t actually consciously clued in. They really _had_ fit well together. Derek was like a perfect piece in his puzzle, and he already knew that Derek felt the same way about him. 

Besides, Werewolves were real, Kanimas were a thing, Kistunes existed and Banshees happened. Was it really _so_ strange to find out he’d gotten saved in the middle of the woods by a Werewolf and they happened to be mates? 

Surprisingly, considering everything else in his life, it really, _really_ wasn’t that strange. 

“So my dad’ll be here the day after tomorrow,” he blurted out. “And uh, I’m not gonna be the one to tell him about this.”

Derek stiffened, then tilted his head slightly, considering. “We can invite him to dinner. My mom can tell him.” 

Stiles laughed, shaking his head. Then he groaned and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Derek’s shoulder. “Man, he struggled with the Supernatural thing in general, so this should be a fun convo.” 

He felt Derek relaxing the more they spoke, and he realized that he’d probably been worried. Stiles was human, after all. Mates weren’t a thing for humans. He’d probably thought Stiles was going to get freaked out about it and bolt. 

It was kind of too late for that. Stiles had been caught up in Derek since the first time he’d laid eyes on him, it was impossible to escape him now. Derek was stuck with him whether he liked it or not. 

Thankfully, he seemed to be more on the “liked it” side as opposed to the “not.” 

“How long are you staying?” Derek asked, his hand rising to knead the back of Stiles’ neck, like he couldn’t get enough of touching him. Stiles could relate, he still had his free hand in Derek’s hair.

And they were _still_ holding hands, though less desperately now. It was more relaxed, their fingers intertwined together. 

“Eight days.”

“Then what?” 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Don’t—really have any plans. Didn’t have a job lined up or anything, so—”

“We have jobs,” Derek said immediately. “We have many jobs. We—the library. We made the alcove.” 

Stiles lifted his head, thunking it back against the wall and grinning widely. “Really? You did?” 

“Yeah. Mom liked the idea. It finished in April. We’ve had people working it off and on, but mostly just covering from other jobs. And the new guy originally applied to work in the restaurant, we just needed someone there so he kind of got shoved into that job. Mom, Cora and I take turns covering the other shifts depending on who’s free.” 

“That would be so fun!” Stiles insisted. “I mean, it’s basically sitting there reading all day until someone comes around, so it’d be no different than what I was doing over the winter break.” He paused, a thought occurring to him. “Where is it?” 

“Across from the café alcove.” 

“So... the front desk would be right in my line of sight?” 

Derek smirked. “It would be, yes.” 

“Sounds like the best job.” Stiles grinned, then let it slowly slide off his face. “I should—probably actually apply.” 

“I don’t think it’ll take too much to convince Mrs. Hale to hire you,” Derek teased. “And think about it, if you came back to work here, even just for the summer, you would get free room and board.” 

“Oh really?” Stiles grinned, tugging lightly on Derek’s hair. “Laura has a spare room I can borrow?” 

“Cute,” Derek said, leaning forward to kiss him.

“I know.” Stiles grinned cheekily. 

“Would you, though?” Derek asked. “Want to work here, I mean. At least for a little while.” 

“Dude, _yes_. I had exactly zero plans for what to do with my degree, so I am totally open for anything. And getting a job right out of university is super rare, I am _not_ passing that up. Plus, I get a roommate out of the deal.” 

“Boyfriend?” Derek countered. 

“Mate,” Stiles corrected, and Derek smirked. 

He leaned forward to kiss Stiles again, then bit his way along his jaw, down the side of his neck, and proceeded to bite and suck a hickey into his pulse as if the sight of his pale, unmarked throat offended him and he had to fix that _immediately_. 

Stiles exhaled sharply, letting his eyes slide shut and resting his head back against the wall, fingers still buried in Derek’s hair and groaning when the other man rocked his hips forward, sliding one leg between Stiles’. 

When Derek was done with sucking a mark into his pulse, he moved along his throat, biting and sucking in intervals, like he didn’t care what marks he left behind as long as he _left_ some. Stiles was going to have a hell of a time explaining this to his dad when he saw him, _especially_ since he hadn’t actually told him about Derek.

Which he was _definitely_ going to hear about when the whole mates conversation came up...

Whoops. 

“Come on, really?” 

Stiles jerked at the voice, but Derek didn’t react other than to growl, as if annoyed to be interrupted. 

“We make food here, can you maybe not?” Cora asked, wandering through the kitchen to the fridge and pulling it open, grabbing a carton of orange juice from inside before shutting it. “Hey Stiles.” 

“Hi Cora,” he said simply, since both hands were occupied and Derek was still biting into his neck. 

She moved to one of the cabinets to pull out a glass, poured herself some orange juice, replaced the carton in the fridge, then walked out while sipping at her drink. 

“If you make him come in the kitchen, just remember mom will know,” she called from out of sight down the corridor. 

That had Derek pausing, and he slowly pulled his teeth away from Stiles’ skin, straightening to look at him. 

“My house?” 

“I think my suite is closer.” 

“Scott?” 

“He can sleep with Allison in the other room tonight so that housekeeping can clear out the smell of sex before he’s relegated to the suite.” 

“Werewolf.” 

Stiles thought about it for a second. “Scott’s gonna have a horrible trip if we fuck in the suite.” 

Derek smirked and Stiles grinned back. “Let’s go get your room key.” 

When Derek pulled away from him, Stiles was the one to lead the way to the door, tugging Derek along behind him, their hands grasped together tightly. 

* * *

Derek tapped at his phone through his jeans pocket, looking around and resisting the urge to pull it out _yet again_ to check the time. It was moot anyway, because there was a huge clock in front of him, so he knew exactly how much time had passed since he’d last checked the time. 

He felt antsy, and uncomfortable, and kind of out of sorts. He knew _why_ he felt that way, but that didn’t make the feelings go away. Didn’t make it any easier to handle, either. He wondered if he was going to feel like this forever, because if so, he was going to have to handcuff himself to Stiles to make sure he never felt like this again. 

Checking the time again—exactly seventeen seconds since he’d _last_ checked—he felt his entire body sag with relief when he inhaled and finally caught his scent. 

It was hard catching specific scents in places like this. Airports were hubs of unhappiness and exhaustion and just general bodily odours _no one_ wanted to know about. But Stiles’ scent was always something that would rise up above the rest and wave a giant banner to get his attention. 

He saw him coming down the escalator on the other side of baggage claim, standing right beside the carousel for his flight as domestic allowed him easier access. That and the airport was fairly small and didn’t accommodate international flights, so there was no customs for him to get through. 

Stiles spotted him a few steps from the bottom of the stairs and he grinned, jumping the last two—because clearly he hadn’t learned _anything_ from his torn ACL—and then bounced his way over to Derek excitedly. 

“Hey bunny,” he teased, leaning forward to kiss him when Stiles stopped in front of him. 

“ _You’re_ the bunny, with those rabbit teeth,” he insisted huskily, kissing him again. “Miss me?” 

“Not for one second.” 

“Me neither.” He winked, turning to the carousel. “This the one?” 

Derek hummed, wrapping his arm around Stiles’ shoulders and pulling him closer into his side. “Good flight?”

“ _Long_ flight. But yeah, it was okay. Finished that book you lent me. It was good.” 

“I thought so too,” Derek agreed. “How was your dad?” 

Stiles groaned, pressing more into his side. “Same as when I left for university. He got all teary and acted like he was never going to see me again.” 

“He might not, honestly. You were gone for five days and I was ready to hunt you down and drag you back out here.” 

“I texted you like, practically _every_ hour except when I was sleeping,” Stiles insisted, rolling his eyes. 

“Not the same.” He kissed his temple. 

“Well, I’m here now. For three months, at _least_.” 

“Forever,” Derek countered. 

“Let’s start with three months.” Stiles grinned at him. “Ready for me?” 

“Yeah, Laura’s spare is all set up.” 

“Asshole.” Stiles elbowed him lightly. “Like you’d let me out of sight for even one second once we get back to your place. Bet you had your mom schedule us for the same shifts.” 

Stiles wasn’t wrong, but Derek _certainly_ wasn’t going to tell him that. 

As they waited for the carousel to start and the luggage to be unloaded, Derek bit at the shell of Stiles’ ear, all while trying to see which of his marks had survived their time apart and which ones hadn’t. He was going to have to give Stiles a few new ones, _just_ to be sure no cute girls hit on him once he started working on Monday. 

Derek smiled against Stiles’ temple when he got elbowed again for continuing to bite at his ear suggestively. He decided to show him mercy for now. After all, they had all the time in the world for him to mark every inch of his mate. 

So he just pulled him closer into his side, lips pressed against his temple, and smiled as how perfectly they fit together. 

Like perfect puzzle pieces. 

**END.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kevin needs a raise, imo. Poor guy.

**Author's Note:**

> Come chill with me on [Tumblr](https://isthatbloodonhisshirt.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Two things to mention, please and thank you |D  
> 1) Because I know people will ask but I couldn't find a way to fit it into the story: Peter never put any effort into the resort and basically left when he was able to at 18 so he was cut out of the Will. When he came back years later, Talia decided to be kind and gave him a chunk of property so he wouldn't be left with nothing, especially since he had a daughter whom she cared for a great deal. So Talia and Michael own the whole resort and the hills and everything, but Peter owns a tiny little chunk of property because his sister is a saint.  
> 2) I know that a private detective likely would've been able to find Stiles through Scott or Allison at Brown, but for the sake of angst, suspend a bit of disbelief |D This is all for fun, so let's just enjoy it and have fun with it otherwise Derek would've found Stiles in like, January and the entire ending wouldn't have been as entertaining to write... 
> 
> Obligatory Copyright shit  
> \- Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis  
> \- Chronicles of Narnia (c) C. S. Lewis  
> \- Jackbox Games (c) Harry Nathan Gottlieb  
> \- Werewolves Game (c) Andrew Plotkin  
> \- American Assassin (c) Vince Flynn  
> \- Lord of the Rings (c) J. R. R. Tolkien  
> \- Die Hard (c) Jeb Stuart & Steven E. de Souza


End file.
